Reliquary
by saclateri
Summary: Carson volunteers his services to a plague stricken village, but there's more going on than any of them expect. And it's not going to be Carson who pays the price...
1. He was dreaming

A/N This is running at fifteen chapters, not counting this one. Its all written, so rest assured nothing's going to be left hanging. It just needs polishing. Thank-you to Ellex and GA Unicorn for reading through, catching the errors and giving such good advice.

Please, all feedback is wonderful. I accept all forms, so please let me know what you think - even "I read this, it was ok" makes my day.

There are a couple of incidents of naughty language, but none without due cause. And spoilers for some of season 2 (Duet and Coup d'Etat pop to mind), but nothing explicit.

Summary: Carson volunteers his services to a plague stricken village, but there's more going on than any of them expect. And its not going to be Carson who pays the price...

Oh, and I don't own them. Did anyone think I did?

* * *

He is dreaming…

He is walking in the dark. His boots are full of water, and he's cold. Someone is coughing. He can't remember how he got here, or even where here is.

There's splashing up ahead. He hurries, because he needs to get to the source of the noise. The water slows him down and he knows he's going to be too late.

Then, up ahead he can see a faint green glow that looks like a movie special effect. He struggles through the water towards it. He doesn't want to reach the light anymore, but knows he has no choice. The splashing has stopped, and he can't see any sign of what caused it. He dreads what he will find in the pool of light. He wants to turn back, but can't.

A body is floating in the water. He knows its dead. He knows, and he doesn't want to turn it over, but he can't help reaching out a hand. Inside he's screaming. The body is floating, and he turns it. He recognizes the face. He steps back and loses his footing. He falls backwards into the water.

-

John Sheppard woke in a cold sweat. He'd managed to tie the light blanket into knots around him again. That would be two nights in a row. He'd woken last night screaming. He thought that this time had been the same.

He flung the blanket off and dragged himself out of bed for a glass of water. He didn't think he'd be able to get back to sleep, but as soon as he lay down again slumber claimed him.

In the morning, the details of the dream had vanished with the darkness. He remembered the terror, but it faded in the bright light of sunrise.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Things are quiet today, aren't they?" Dr Jose Morales said as he breezed into the infirmary.

Every other member of Atlantis' medical team threw things at him. Little pieces of paper, a couple of pencils and half a powerbar were immediately airborne and on an intercept trajectory with the newest member of staff. Various shouts of "You did it now," and "You had to say it," were called out from around the room.

Carson Beckett took his new doctor by the elbow. "Lad, you know that it's bad luck to say MacBeth in a theatre?" he said as he wiped the remains of the powerbar off the youngster's shoulder. The boy nodded. "Well, in most medical places I've worked, the 'Q' word is considered…"

They were interrupted by the radio.

"Emergency quarantine procedures, all staff clear the gate room. This is not a drill. Medical team to Control."

Someone said "There!"

Carson muttered to himself. Just bloody typical. He'd cleared the infirmary, and he was looking forward to a qu… peaceful day catching up on some research. Instead, he'd have to get dressed up in the dreadful hazmat suit. He had pulled it out of the locker before the message began to repeat. "Emergency quarantine…"

"Right, right, I'm coming," he said to the radio.

Of course, it wasn't poor Jose's fault. Carson knew who was to blame. The duty roster was posted in the infirmary coffee room. There were two teams out at the moment. Lorne had been out since yesterday evening, and Sheppard and company had left in the early hours.

Carson would put good money on which of the two was up to mischief at the moment.

The other members of the emergency team were ready. Carson lifted his mask over his head. Two of his intensive care nurses stood beside the trolley, while Jose fiddled guiltily with the crash bag.

"Ok folks, shall we go and see what Sheppard's got himself involved in this time?"

-

Weeks of drill meant the emergency procedures went off without a hitch. Carson and his suited-up team arrived in the Gate Room as the last of the personnel were cleared out. He took up position on the left side of the gate, and winked at Jose, who looked nervous as hell.

The first person through the event horizon was Sheppard. He was closely followed by McKay, Teyla and Ronon taking up the rear. Their expressions varied from Teyla's worried face to Rodney's look of terror. Sheppard looked mildly annoyed.

Carson said "Hi," even as he began running scans with his handheld.

Sheppard waved, and smiled.

The initial survey indicated there was no reason to suspect any immediate danger to the new arrivals. He directed them to the main doors. "If you would you like to come with me," Carson said, and he led the little procession through the cleared corridors to the quarantine area of the infirmary. It was a strangely silent team which followed him. There was none of the usual banter. Rodney didn't complain once, didn't say a word. The doors opened up for them; and Carson took this as a good sign after the incident with the nanite virus.

-

"So what exactly happened?" Carson asked once they were safe in the quarantine area and he had satisfied himself that there was no medical urgency.

"We arrived at …" John looked across at Teyla, "What was it they called it?"

"The Padanarams call their village Reliquary."

John nodded. "Like where you keep relics. We arrived, and were going to meet the bosses to get the supplies, when this guy runs up and tells us to get away. Turns out they've got a sickness in the village and they've been stopping people coming and going."

"And you saw the people who were affected?" Carson asked as he stuck a needle into John Sheppard's vein.

"They were sorta hard to miss. The one who came up to us seemed alright, but there were a lot of closed doors, and a couple of people getting carried off somewhere. We had a chance to speak to Teyla's contact before she told us to leave"

"Her name is Rina," Teyla added. Jose was taking some of her blood. "A number of their children have become ill."

Carson nodded as he stuck a band-aid over John's venepuncture site.

"Can you tell me any details about the sickness?" Carson asked as he made his way to his least favorite part of post-mission checkups. He told his staff he wouldn't let anyone else do it because he enjoyed it so much and they laughed. He always left it until last...

Rodney MacKay.

"What more do you want?" Rodney demanded. Carson took his arm, and found 'his' vein. They were on good terms, Carson and this vein. It was a mark of how agitated Rodney was that he didn't pull away or make a fuss about being 'bled.' _Thank goodness for small mercies_, Carson thought. Vampire jokes just became so tiresome. "People start coughing," Rodney continued. "They feel sick and then they die. End of story. It's not a good holiday resort."

"What's the incubation period? And the symptoms and recovery rates?"

"No idea, coughing then death, and not many." Rodney ticked off the answers to Carson's questions. "Are you finished?"

Teyla glared at McKay. She said patiently, "I have visited with these people on many occasions, Doctor. Rina tells me that the disease has only been present in the village for a few days. Initially only a few young ones became sick, and some of them have become well again, but now others have become unwell, and many have died."

She looked across to Sheppard, who shrugged, and gestured for her to continue.

"The disease starts with a cough, which quickly becomes moist. There are muscle aches and fever. Soon the affected are almost comatose and unable to eat or drink. Some of the young and fit have recovered, but most of those who became ill have died."

Carson took mental notes. "How long were you in proximity of the villagers?"

"Does it matter?" Rodney exploded, and pulled his sleeve back down roughly. "We've been in the Plague Village, we've breathed in air full of their viruses and we're all about to die." He began pacing up and down the infirmary.

There were days when Carson thought he should have specialised in pathology. The patients don't talk back to pathologists.

"Rodney, there is no way to know if the organism that caused this infection is airborne," he said carefully. "There are other more likely explanations."

"Such as what?" There was still anger in Rodney's voice, but also a hint of desperation.

Carson became aware that all the members of the team were watching him.

"If the population lives in primitive conditions," he shrugged in apology to Teyla, who nodded at him, "the most likely vectors are fecal-oral spread, like hepatitis A."

"That's just gross, Carson."

"Then it may be blood borne spread, or an insect vector."

"So we may not be about to die?" Rodney said with obvious relief. He stopped pacing and sighed. "You understand why I would think so, after the, you know…" He waved his hands vaguely, and Carson nodded.

"Aye, lad, I do."

"Well, that's fine then." He tucked his hands into his pockets. "I'll be in my lab if you…"

Carson sighed. Yes, pathology would have been good. "Not so fast. I'd like to keep you all in quarantine from the rest of the base until the bloods are back."

"What?" Rodney turned from the exit. "You said…"

Carson was about to explain, again, when Sheppard took pity on him. "Rodney. The man said that he doesn't know how this illness might be spread. So until then, we'll just do as he says and go visit some nice quiet out of the way balcony and be quarantined." Sheppard put his arm around McKay's shoulder and lead him out the rear entrance of the infirmary. He winked at Carson and mouthed, "I'll keep him busy."

Carson breathed in relief. He counted Rodney as a friend, but god, he could be an annoying bugger.

"The same for you two," Carson told his two remaining patients.

Teyla and Ronon looked at each other.

"Doc," Ronon started, and then paused. "Is that quarantine?" He waved at the door Sheppard and MacKay had exited.

"That's it."

"I'd like to wait here."

"As would I," Teyla agreed.

Carson couldn't help smile. Given the choice, he'd let Sheppard handle McKay in that mood too. The infirmary was undoubtedly quieter.

Ronon relaxed back on the bed and closed his eyes. Within seconds the sound of snoring filled the infirmary. Carson watched with a hint of jealousy. He'd like to learn that trick. He added some more information to his PDA

Teyla did not relax. She came to stand at Carson's shoulder, a slightly distracting presence. She remained silent as he punched blood pressure readings into the files for each of the team members, and said nothing as he scribbled Rodney's name onto the little vials of blood.

She had the patience of a diplomat. She certainly had more patience than Carson.

"What is it, lass?" he finally asked.

She looked at the sleeping form of Ronon, then to Carson. "I wondered, Doctor, if there is anything I can do for the people in that village. Rina is an old friend, and they are worried and scared."

He'd expected this conversation. If she hadn't asked him, he would have inquired himself. "I'd need samples from the villagers, and from the surrounding area; water, foodstuffs and the like. And I'd need to know more about the symptoms of the disease."

"Very well. If you provide me with instructions, I shall fetch you what you need."

"I don't think Elizabeth would be keen on us mounting an expedition to the 'Plague Village'."

"I would be happy to go on my own, Doctor."

Carson smiled. He suspected he was being manipulated by a devious young woman, then decided it didn't matter. "I couldn't let you do that, Teyla. I'd need to see the villagers and get some of the blood samples."

"You would be risking infection."

He shrugged. "That is what hazmat suits are for."

"Thank you for your offer, Doctor," she smiled that wonderful smile that made him go weak at the knees. "I'm sure Rina and her village will be most grateful."

"Aye, well we haven't saved them yet."

-

SGA

-

"I just don't like plagues, and diseases and sickness and stuff. It's not my fault if I have bad memories of them," Rodney McKay said as he strode towards the door to the infirmary. He turned, and started in the other direction. "I mean, it's not like I can't handle myself, it's just that if I get a cold it's like that," a snap of the fingers, "and I'm laid up for weeks." He reached the balcony, pivoted and marched back in the same direction he had come. "And then there's the vomiting and the coughing and the dying and the hallucinations and…"

"Rodney," Sheppard said.

"…and the whole waiting to die thing. I'm just not good at it." He turned to pace back to the door again. "That's Carson's specialty, and it's not science, it's this woolly thing where…"

"Rodney."

"…you just make it up, and stab people and stick needles. It's not that I'm not grateful…"

John was beginning to become annoyed. "Rodney!"

The torrent of words stopped, and Rodney turned to face Sheppard. "Well, excuse me for panicking, but it's a perfectly reasonable…"

"McKay. Stop talking."

Rodney opened his mouth to speak, closed it and opened it again. Sheppard glared at him.

McKay closed his mouth again with a snap and continued to pace.

John enjoyed the moment of comparative silence. The day was pleasant, with a gentle wind rousing the ocean to white horses. A gentle flack-flack sound drifted from an untied cable knocking the wall. There was music from an opened window some decks below. It seemed someone had brought a violin as part of their personal allowance.

He tried to filter out the noise of McKay's agitated pacing. Why couldn't the man just relax?

"Don't let me interrupt you," Rodney started again. That had been a whole twenty seconds of peace, "and I hate to remind you that we could be facing imminent death from an unknown alien contagion, and you just sit there?"

There was no pause, so John couldn't have answered. He knew the question was rhetorical anyway.

"Do you think Carson will know soon, and let us out of here? Because if we're going to die, there are things I need to tell Zelenka to check. There's a spill-over from the third generator that needs to be re-calibrated… and I had some thoughts about improving the efficiency of the ZedPM if we use it to boost the…"

John filtered the words out. He concentrated on the sound of the waves below and the warmth in the sun. There was hardly any time nowadays to sit and enjoy the ocean and the clement weather. He would have to call Weir soon, and officially debrief. It wouldn't be the first time he'd reported from the infirmary, but at least this time it wasn't because one of his team had been injured.

Although the way Rodney was going, a black eye wasn't out of the question.

He checked his watch. The rant had lasted seven minutes so far. He'd planned to give the scientist ten minutes to work the panic out, but he wasn't sure either of them could last that long. Rodney was getting very close to either the black eye or a self-induced coronary.

"…not that they're not qualified, of course, but they haven't been around as long as the others, and they come here with their theories that worked in simulations and their convinced will work in reality. If I die, then someone's going to have to make sure they don't run all their little experiments and blow up the north pier…"

Time for the ace card, John thought. "What was it Zelenka said this morning about a more efficient search program for the database?" he asked idly.

McKay stopped pacing to stare. "What?"

"This morning at the briefing, you were arguing with Radek about how to improve the database searches. He said that it if you created algorithms of the main criteria you could search more effectively. You said no."

Rodney looked baffled. It was one of John's favorite Rodney-expressions. "I know what Zelenka said. I just have no idea why you would choose to bring it up at this moment."

John shrugged in pretended ignorance. "It was bothering me."

"Well, the idea's fine in principle," Rodney began. "It's the application that falls apart. Designing the programming would be a couple months of work, without a guarantee that the search would be any more accurate or more thorough…"

He dropped firmly into lecture mode. His hands were out of his pockets and the unconscious gestures were in full flow.

"I don't know if you are aware, Colonel, that although we have access to the entire Atlantis database, it is so enormous that we often can't find the information we want when it's necessary, or until the system alerts us to processes that are ongoing."

"Like the deep space sensors?"

"Yes, exactly like the deep space sensors," McKay answered with typical irritation at being interrupted. The fact that they had been unaware of the sensors for months was still a sore point. "Part of the problem is nomenclature, the fact that we call things by different names. What we call sanitation, the Ancients called removal. Deep space sensors are in a system that translates 'to hear.'"

"So…" John prompted.

"So, unless we understand how the Ancients thought, and how they named their main systems, we're in the dark. Zelenka's idea was to identify areas of interest according to their physical location in the database, but the storage system is a web. It would be possible to find the connections, but the algorithms would take ages to construct without a guarantee that the search would be any more effective. We just can't spare the time."

"And let me guess; only you or Zelenka could program these algorithms?"

"Obviously." Rodney shrugged. "No one else knows the whole system, and everyone else has their own area of expertise…" He stopped mid sentence. He had his hand raised, and slowly he pointed a finger.

John leaned forward. This was it. Genius at work.

"If we trace the particular operator…" Rodney muttered. "We could link systems that particular Ancients were working on." He thrust his hand out to John and clicked his fingers. "Radio."

John handed his spare one over without question.

McKay grabbed it and stuffed it in his ear. "Zelenka," he demanded. "Come in."

There was a pause.

Rodney snapped an answer to the unheard reply. "Yes, yes, you can moan about being interrupted later. Of course if you'd rather not discuss the solution to the search routines…" He crossed his arms.

John settled back against the wall and smiled.

"I told you that would take too long, but rather than searching the contents of the files, we should cross-reference the authors of the reports."

If it were possible, McKay looked even more smug.

"I know it's a damn good idea. I thought of it, didn't I?"

There was another pause as Zelenka answered.

"Quarantine's just a precaution, what with the whole 'Plague Village' thing. Yes, we're all alright."

Sheppard closed his eyes to enjoy the sun. Yes, they were alright now.

"Now, Zelenka, are you sitting at a console?"


	3. Chapter 2

A/N Thank you so much for all the reviews. They mean so much, and I hope not to disappoint.

I also realised since the last chapter that it's probably easier to say which episodes I don't have spoilers for. No Michael, Inferno or Allies references here.

And again, thank you to GA Unicorn and Ellex for the advice.

* * *

Chapter 2

The blood results would take an hour to process through the Ancient's equipment, and then another hour to cross-reference the findings with the medical database. Carson was desperate to scratch his nose and he'd only been in the hazmat suit for 40 minutes.

Most of the equipment he wanted to take to the planet was next door, but he always felt guilty leaving patients trapped in a quarantine area while he could escape. He tended to hang around as long as he could. He had already dismissed Jose and the nurses.

He collected the various pieces of equipment stored in this room. The syringes and needles were stored neatly in the pockets of his rucksack. He wrapped the chemical reagents, emergency antibiotics and anti-virals in their bubble-wrap before placing them neatly in the main body of the bag.

Teyla hovered at his shoulder. Her nimble hands caught a couple of the little plastic bottles before they could fall, and she arranged them alphabetically in the bag. Of course she was unencumbered by the suit.

Eventually, she asked, "You believe Dr. Weir will agree to allow us to visit the village?"

He nodded, and then said "Aye," when he remembered that the movements were not well translated by the helmet.

"She will be concerned that we are going into a 'Plague Village.'" She stumbled over McKay's phrase.

He smiled. "I wasn't spouting off excuses to calm McKay down; it really is far more likely that the cause of the infective outbreak is not airborne. In which case, so long as we take the proper precautions, we should be quite safe."

"I see. But I am unsure Dr. Weir will agree." she said again.

He placed a gloved hand on the young woman's elbow, "Don't be so pessimistic, lass." He winked. "If she doesn't, we'll just say that McKay picked up some energy readings that could be a ZMP."

"Do you mean a ZPM?"

He waved a hand, "That too." He had never claimed to understand the engineering gobble-de-gook that kept this place running. It would be like expecting Rodney to understand the full breakdown of a CBC. Although knowing Rodney, he wouldn't have been surprised.

Speaking of Rodney…

"Does it seem awfully quiet to you?" he asked

She looked at the sleeping form on the examination bed. Rasping snores rattled at regular intervals.

"I didn't mean Ronon," Carson said. He nodded towards the balcony door. "I meant the Prophet of Doom."

"Prophet of Doom?" she asked.

"I was referring to Rodney's unerring ability to see disaster in a walk in the park."

"I see." She tilted her head to listen. "It does seem quieter."

Intrigued, Carson walked to the glass door and glanced out.

Colonel Sheppard lounged against the wall in the sunshine, with his hands behind his head. His eyes were closed and he grinned like the cat that ate the canary, with good reason. Rodney McKay had ceased his hurricane impression and was now seated against the banister of the balcony; his hands flying in fleeting gestures

After the incident with the Wraith enzyme, Sheppard and Carson had shared a nightcap. Over a large glass of whiskey, they shared their 'McKay-stories.' They each tried to better each other with tales of the ego and the damage it wrought. When the tales had become more maudlin, Sheppard told Carson that he always thought of McKay conducting an orchestra when the hands started.

So, Sheppard maintained his crown as chief scientist-handler on Atlantis. Carson would love to know how he did it, but only from intellectual curiosity. He didn't want the job himself.

Teyla joined him. "I am unsure how he does that," she said appreciatively.

"It's no mean feat at all. I wish I'd met him ages ago. I spent months trying to get Rodney to calm down enough to go to work, and John walks in and does it naturally." He shrugged. "But my Gran always said never look a gift horse in the mouth as it is sure to bite your fingers off."

Sheppard opened an eye lazily. He checked first on Rodney, then on the door. He smiled and gave a small wave. Carson was struck with the thought that Sheppard was protecting Rodney, although he was unsure what he was protecting him from.

Carson nodded back, and smiled too.

"Right, lass, shall we bite the bullet?"

-

The video conference with Elizabeth went better than Carson had hoped. He chose to speak to her from the infirmary so he would have Teyla's support at his side. Dr Weir nodded in all the right places as he told her about the villagers and the unknown disease affecting them. He told her his theory that they could be looking at a cholera or dysentery type illness that might just require simple measures to protect the population.

He may have slightly exaggerated the trade opportunities that existed. He also hinted that the name Reliquary implied some kind of relic which might be something ancient and very interesting. He didn't mention that both Teyla and the other teams had never had any hint that Reliquary wasn't just a name the locals used because they liked how it sounded. He glossed over the possible dangers of contamination.

Elizabeth bought it all.

"You and Teyla have my permission to go ahead," Elizabeth said. She sounded distracted.

"Is there a problem, lass?" he asked. He was a lousy liar, and he had been concentrating on maintaining his façade, so he hadn't noticed he did not have Elizabeth's full attention.

"Major Lorne is two hours overdue for report."

Carson said, "I see."

"I'm giving him another hour, and then I'm sending another team to check on them."

"Very good." He checked his watch. "The people littering up my quarantine area should have the all clear by then, providing the database can't identify anything nasty in their blood."

"I'd appreciate Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay being available for a rescue party," she glanced at her watch too.

"I'll have them cleared for active duty as soon as the bloods come back clean," he replied confidently.

"Good." She consulted something on her PDA. "You have gate access at 1130."

"Thank you."

The screen flashed to darkness, and then the standard Atlantis backdrop flickered on. It was an improvement, Carson thought, on the photograph of a certain kiss. Dr. Zelenka had hacked into the entire computer system and set the picture as the default wallpaper and it had taken Rodney twenty-four hours to remove it.

"We have permission," Teyla said.

"Right. That was the easy part," Carson said. "Now I have to live with the fact that I asked to go through that damn polo mint of my own accord".

"Polo mint?"

Carson sighed. How he wished for the comforts of home. "Small, minty sweetie with a hole in the middle… Never mind."

-

SGA

-

"The blood results are negative," Carson declared to the gathered team-members in his infirmary.

Sheppard and Ronon nodded. Teyla smiled.

Rodney said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Rodney, I'm sure," Carson replied. Did it use up a lot of energy being so ruddy pessimistic _all _the time?

"You checked with the database? Because there are bugs that aren't on our computer…"

"Yes, Rodney," Carson said again. He unclipped the helmet, and began climbing out of the suit. He felt sweaty and uncomfortable.

"See," John said cheerfully. "He's getting out of the suit. That's got to be a good sign, eh, Doc?"

Carson nodded. "I'm not going to risk my own ass, Rodney. Relax."

"Well, I know, it's just because if there's a cold doing the rounds I get it like that," he clicked his fingers.

"So I've heard," Carson sighed. He folded the hazmat suit neatly and placed it beside the packed rucksack.

"Are you going somewhere?" Sheppard asked. He indicated the bag, and Carson had a feeling he equated with being caught in the act.

"Teyla and I are going to the village."

"You're doing what?" Rodney demanded. He had made no move to leave the infirmary.

"We're going back to see if there's anything to be done for them," Carson answered.

"Not that I don't think the sentiment is laudable," Sheppard said, "but are you sure that's wise? Those people really didn't look well."

"And if something happened to you…" Rodney stuttered to a halt.

Carson smiled. He would take that as a compliment. "Thank you for the kind words, Rodney. I am sure Dr. Biro will patch you up adequately in my absence."

Rodney mumbled, "That wasn't what I meant."

"I understand, Rodney. Don't worry. Teyla and I will be careful."

"I'll look after them," Ronon said from the end of the examination bed.

"Oh not you as well," Rodney said in despair. "What part of people getting sick and dying did you Samaritans not listen to?"

"It's not often I agree with Rodney…" Sheppard started to say.

"You agree with me all the time."

"Sure. We only argue for show."

Rodney looked about to answer, but Sheppard headed him off. "It's just that I hate to be the voice of doom about this, but it seems like a risky idea without much reward."

Carson sighed. He was a doctor, and he knew his job. And it meant treating sick people when it wasn't sexy or glamorous, or accompanied by a 'reward', as Sheppard called it. He allowed his temper to get the better of him.

"Colonel Sheppard, Dr McKay, I don't second guess your command decisions about military or scientific matters, and I'd rather you didn't when I make decisions on medical matters. Teyla, and I," Ronon growled from the couch, "and Ronon, will be wearing hazmat suits for the initial investigation. If there is nothing to be done, we'll be back. We won't allow ourselves to be contaminated. And…" he turned to Sheppard, "I refuse to allow the provision of a 'reward' to influence my decision to treat or not treat a community."

Sheppard nodded.

Rodney looked ready to say something else, when an open call came over the radio.

"Colonel Sheppard, Doctor McKay, report to the control room."

They turned for the door.

Sheppard said over his shoulder, "Be careful, Doc."

The door closed behind them.

"I intend to."

He had no plans to turn his first voluntary mission through that godforsaken tunnel into a disaster.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: We're going gently here. Think of this as a roller coaster, where we're being hauled up the lift hill to the first summit. And the longer it takes to get to the top, the bigger the drop is going to be...

Again, thank you so much for the kind words. And Ellex and GA Unicorn fixed lots of the problems here, before they ever saw the light of day.

Oh, and as if not owning Atlantis wasn't bad enough, I don't own Monty Python either.

* * *

Chapter 3 

Elizabeth explained the situation to John and Rodney. Lorne was now three hours overdue, and, despite attempts to contact them, there was still no word. It had been a routine ceremonial visit to the Crethins, a diminutive people who loved music and dance. Lorne had drawn the short straw, and he and his team had the honor of attending the harvest festival as representatives of the survivors of Atlantis.

John offered to take a Jumper to find the missing team as soon as the gate room was clear. Rodney nodded in all the right places, but it was clear something was on both their minds. They kept looking at the office door towards the gate room where Dr Beckett, Teyla and Ronon were preparing to gate to Reliquary.

"He asked you, and you agreed?" McKay said eventually when he could no longer hold it in. "Are you mad, Elizabeth? This is Carson we're talking about."

John nodded in agreement. "It's just that…" he started to say, and then shrugged. "I mean the man doesn't have the best luck off-world, does he? There was the whole Hoff incident, the Wraith retro-virus, being trapped in a Monty Python castle full of in-bred aristocrats and almost being swept up by that dart that got Cadman and McKay,"

Rodney's scowl deepened. "Thank you for bringing that up!"

John shrugged in pretended innocence. "I thought it was an important example."

"Well, thanks," Rodney crossed his arms.

"The point is: Carson just isn't the luckiest person on the expedition."

Elizabeth frowned at the two men. "I was hardly going to tell my chief medical officer that he couldn't go and help a village of sick people because of his 'bad luck'."

Rodney put his two hands on the table and leaned forward. "What part of this feels like a good idea to you? We send our chief medical officer to a distant planet to research a _plague_! Do you have any idea how many things could go wrong? "

He turned on his heel and stormed out angrily.

Sheppard shrugged. "He's a little freaked out by the whole plague thing."

"I figured."

"And he's worried."

"Really?" Elizabeth said.

John nodded. "Worried as hell. He's just not very good at saying it. He'll calm down when Carson reports in that everything is fine."

"I'll be looking forward to it then." She found it difficult to imagine the base continuing to function with Rodney McKay barreling around it in this state.

The door opened again. Rodney's head poked around the edge. "Monty Python?"

John grinned and shrugged. "It just reminded me of that bit in Holy Grail when John Cleese fights everyone at the wedding party."

"Yeah. I know what you mean. I just didn't see you as a Monty Python kind of guy."

"Isn't everyone?" John gestured out of the door. "Lead on, Patsy."

"Must have left my coconuts in my other pants," was the final thing Elizabeth heard as the door slid shut behind them. She had no idea what they could be talking about, and clocked it up to one more unexplained facet in the Sheppard and McKay duet.

-

SGA

-

Carson's first impression of Reliquary was a group of faces that rushed out to greet them. Each one was covered in a faint sheen of grime. The universal characteristics were blue eyes and dirty blond hair. The women wore ripped skirts that were repaired neatly, with patches as faded as the original material.

The men sported grays and browns, and rough stubble or full grown beards. Their hair was almost as long as the women's.

Both men and women seemed fascinated with the hazmat suits, and reached out to touch them with tentative fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, Carson saw Ronon stiffen.

"It's alright, lad," he said. He raised his hands so that the curious locals could check the gloves. Teyla took a young man's hand in one of hers.

"It is unlike anything I have ever seen," a girl breathed. Tentatively, she reached up and brushed her fingertips across Ronon's elbow.

He growled in his throat and

the girl snatched her hand back as though it had been burned. He looked ready to maul… someone.

"Ronon!" Teyla snapped.

Carson bit back a smile, because he didn't want to provoke the Runner. He suspected that if Ronon didn't get to maul a villager, Carson would be next on the list for insisting on the suits in the first place.

His musings were interrupted by the loud clapping of hands. The crowd around them parted to allow an elderly woman through. She had grey hair to her shoulders, and a face lined with many years. Her eyes were bright and clear and there was a lightness to her step that pleased Carson. No sign of arthritis there.

She was dressed well, the wear to her clothes recently repaired. Her hair was neatly tied back from her face.

"Rina," Teyla said. She bowed her head forward in greeting.

"Teyla Emmagen," Rina said, responding in kind. "Your clothing is…" she paused to consider the three visitors. Carson felt her keen eye inspect him closely. "…most unusual," she finished.

"These are protective garments," Teyla answered. "This is Dr. Beckett. He is a healer."

Rina instantly focused on Carson. Her stare made him feel uncomfortable.

"Have you come to heal my people?" she asked.

He knew in these situations that honesty was his only route. "I would like to try, ma'am."

She nodded once. "And yet, you come wearing suits to hide yourselves from us."

He fell back to honesty again. "The suits are for protection. I don't know what has caused the sickness. I need to do some tests first, and once I have a better idea, we can probably do away with these things. But I won't risk my team."

Rina's frown shifted into a glorious smile that turned the wrinkles into something much more gracious. She looked nothing like Carson's grandmother; too short, with the wrong color eyes, but there was something in that smile and those bright eyes that made Carson think of summers spent in a kitchen watching the old lady baking.

"I am glad to hear it, Dr. Beckett." She copied Teyla's greeting, and Carson responded.

"And you have returned as well, Satedan." She did not greet Ronon in the same manner, but nodded formally at him.

Ronon nodded back. It was less a greeting of friends and more a recognition between warriors.

She turned back to Carson. "Welcome to Reliquary, Doctor. We are most grateful for your offer of assistance. We are unable to provide payment for your services, but we will endeavor to recompense you for your efforts."

Why, Carson wondered, did everyone think he needed to be paid for his services? He trained in the ruddy National Health Service for goodness sake. 'Free at point of delivery' was a mantra that had been instilled in him since his days as a junior. Sure, they took it out of your hide somewhere, but free at point of delivery was the most important thing.

"There's no need, ma'am."

"Dr. Beckett has agreed to see what can be done without payment," Teyla said.

Rina inclined her head in thanks, and Carson blushed.

"It's…" he started to say and then stopped. He tried again, "I'm a doctor," he said. "It's what I do."

"Your assistance is greatly appreciated." She ordered a pair of the young men down to the Stargate to collect Carson's equipment, then began walking back to the small group of houses. The gathered villagers stayed respectfully back. "Although," she said as she walked, "I'm not sure if anything can be done. You will wish to speak with Levin."

"Is he your healer?" Teyla asked.

Rina shook her head sadly. "Levin is my grandson. He was one of the first to become sick."

She led them into the village. The buildings reminded Carson of the old wattle and daub constructions he had been dragged around as a child at one of those Viking re-enactment camps. He could only smell the rubber tang of the hazmat suit at the moment, but his mind supplied the same thick smell of wood smoke and close human habitation. A goat crossed their path, followed by a hen and her chicks.

The crowd had dissipated so that only a few still followed.

Thick woolen curtains twitched as they passed, and Carson was struck with an image of how ridiculous they must look to the villagers. The suits were designed in luminous orange, for a reason he had never been able to ascertain. They were hot, bulky and not the most graceful equipment. He had never had to wear a space suit (and, god forbid, he would never have to), but he imagined the hazmat suit was a close second in maneuverability.

Added to the obvious ridiculous nature of their dress was the fact that they must strike an observer as a mismatched little group anyway. Teyla walked ahead and somehow managed to make walking in the damn suit look graceful. Well, Carson reconsidered, if not graceful, at least possible. Ronon to the rear looked like he had been force fed into a cardboard cut-out costume. He was about as graceful as a drunken pantomime horse. He lumbered.

Carson tried not to imagine how he looked, sandwiched in the middle.

He saw a hand pump with a couple of buckets, and noted the place. There was no food to be seen, but also no signs of raw sewage or effluent. The streets were dry. There were planters of what appeared to be herbs on a few windowsills and occasional flowering plants, but most of the greenery was wilted

"Rina," Teyla said, "where are your children?"

Carson hadn't noticed that no children had come to greet them, but now that Teyla mentioned it their absence was obvious. The few times Carson had been off-world there had been children under his feet from the moment of arrival to the moment of departure. They were unable to hide their curiosity about newcomers, and would hang around asking questions.

The old lady shrugged and did not turn as she answered. "People keep them indoors. And some are sick. We try to keep them from passing the illness to each other, but it is difficult to keep keen young ones safe."

Now when he saw a curtain twitch, he thought he saw small faces at the window, before large hands snatched the wool back into place.

"Are the children affected more than the adults?" Carson asked.

Rina shook her head. "No more so, I believe. The young are strong, and fight the illness well, but some succumb. Of course, they may be pining for their parents."

"You do not let them see their families?" Ronon asked, unexpectedly.

"You shall see," she said. "We are here."

They stopped forty paces from the building to which Rina had led them. It looked like a hall of some kind, and in different circumstances Carson could see it being used for meetings or dances. He could imagine music filtering through its windows, but now it had an air of solemnity. Smoke drifted lazily from a hole in the roof.

Teyla shrugged at Carson's questioning glance. She seemed unsure why they did not approach further.

"Only those who are ill, or who have been ill can enter," Rina said in answer to the unspoken question. She pointed to the small group who had followed them from the outskirts of the village. "They await news of what happens inside."

Carson looked at the small group of followers they had retained. They had a haunted look he recognized all too well. He had seen it in hospital wards and waiting rooms in two galaxies. There was a glassiness to the eyes, and a worry around the set of the mouth that was universal. These were relatives who waited and hoped for good news, although they knew that the hope may be in vain.

He straightened his shoulders, and led the way into the makeshift hospital.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: There's some pretty horrible stuff happening in the "makeshift infirmary". If you've got a sensitive disposition, you may want to turn away now, because I'm not going to be nice to the poor Padanarams.

Chapter 4

The building was as poor on the inside as Carson had expected. There were no beds, but blankets lined either side of the room. Most had one occupant, some had two, and all of them were sick. The air was loud with coughs. Smoke lingered from the fire in the central hearth.

Carson scanned the room, and his eye was drawn to a child of six or so. He was blond like the others, and had the look of Carson's sister's boy about him. Only his overlarge eyes moved in his face. He had thrown off his blanket and his white limbs seemed like only skin and bone. He watched Carson and the others, but there was no reaction in his face.

Propped on the next blanket was a young woman. She was pregnant, but Carson suspected she might lose the baby by the way the coughing wracked her body. Above the swollen belly her ribs showed and her arms were skeletal.

All around the room the same sights repeated themselves. Here, an elderly woman wiped bloodstained spit from her lips. Next to her, an infant squealed in distress, while across the room a couple of children tended to the sick.

Worst of all were the eyes. Every person able to open their eyes had trained them on the newcomers.

"Oh, by the Ancestors," Teyla breathed.

Carson followed her eye. A small girl lay on a torn rug. Her eyes were closed, and she lay too still. Teyla stepped across the room to the little body.

"Who are you?" a boy asked. He sat at the side of a lady struggling to breath, one hand on her shoulder. He was young, but he appeared to be the eldest of those still able to walk.

"I'm Doctor Carson Beckett, from Atlantis."

"Atlantis was destroyed," the boy said.

Damn, Carson thought. He hadn't been off world in a while, and forgot the whole secrecy business.

Teyla rescued the situation. "It was destroyed. We are from a group of the survivors who managed to gate out in time."

The boy accepted this without reaction. He had bigger things to worry about. "Why are you here?"

Teyla continued. "I am a friend of the village. I have traded with Rina on occasion. We had need of supplies, and when we heard of the illness, we wished to help." She knelt down at the side of the still form.

"Why? We cannot pay."

"We do not want paying!" Carson said. His hands itched to get started, but he felt a need to gain this boy's trust first.

"Then what do you want?"

"Just to help." Carson said. He pointed at the figure Teyla was reaching out to touch. "I do not want anymore of that."

The little form was still as Teyla stroked its cheek with a glove.

The boy turned away from them. He looked about ten. "My name is Levin."

"You are Rina's grandson."

"Yes. That is Covin." He did not look towards Teyla, but Carson sensed he was discussing the small dead body.

"She was my cousin," Levin said.

"I am sorry," Carson said. As always, he was struck by how useless those words were.

Levin shrugged.

"I think we can help," Carson said.

The boy nodded as he spooned some water into the pale lady. "I hope so." He looked up, and Carson saw a twinkle in his eye. "Otherwise, you got dressed up for nothing."

"Aye lad," Carson couldn't help a smile. "These are protective garments. We'd not be much help if we got sick too. We haven't been exposed to the illness the way you have."

The boy nodded. "It was Gerlin's idea. He said that the illness was shared between those who were ill and those who cared for them. He told us that you could not become ill twice, and asked those of us who recovered to stay and tend the sick."

"He sounds like a smart man."

"He was our healer," Levin said. "He became ill. We have left his body over there," he indicated a corner that Carson could see was full of dark bundles. "We don't know if we should bury those who die outdoors or if they should stay here to protect those outside." The youngster was obviously torn.

Carson allowed himself a moment of sorrow at the suffering here. He marvelled at the strength of the children who flitted around with water and cool rags, and he wanted to weep for Levin's loss. He looked at the pile of dead, and wondered how many of the small crowd that had followed them through the village would find answers there.

Then he filed the emotions away. It was time to work.

There was a rap on the wall like a pebble being thrown and Ronon lifted the curtain. "It's your equipment, Doc."

Carson had Ronon set up the computer and microscopes. Carson had learned that the man was surprisingly good at the technical aspects. He set up the mini-lab on a table and lined up various reagents and slides according to Carson's instructions.

Teyla questioned each of the children about the illness. She spoke to a number of adults. Her gentle manner calmed the most skittish, and her skilful questioning extracted the relevant information in a quarter of the time it would have taken Carson.

That meant he was free to oversee his new infirmary. He moved around the room silently the first time, and picked out the dead bodies. He carried them to the furthest corner of the room. He added two adults and three children to the makeshift mortuary in that initial sweep. Once he had things under control, he would have that section of the building emptied, but for the moment he didn't have the time.

Then he began taking samples of blood. He took pinpricks from the infants, and larger samples from the adults to test for viral or bacterial DNA. He took samples from some of the recovered children as well to look for an antibody response. Each person held their arm out as he approached. They suffered the tourniquet without complaint and did not twitch as the needle was inserted. Carson wished, momentarily, that everyone he had to take blood from would acquiesce so easily. Rodney, for example…

He wrote a name on each sample. Some did not respond when he asked their names and he documented them by their distinguishing clothes. He tagged everyone once their samples were taken. He took samples from the various foodstuffs scattered about the room. There was a large jug in the corner of the room that contained clear water. He filled a sterile pot with that, and another with dirtier water from a basin. He labeled them as "clear jug water", and "dirty basin water".

He then began collecting samples of other bodily material. It wasn't the most glamorous of jobs by any stretch. He collected rags containing sputum, and took other samples from the corners of the room. Each was labeled and lined up beside the equipment. Ronon watched him for a moment, and Carson thought he saw the Runner's nose wrinkle up behind the mask of the hazmat suit.

"Don't tell Rodney this is how we spent our afternoon," Carson said as he scraped something unspeakable into a sterile tube.

Ronon gave that enigmatic smile. "Your secret is safe, Doctor."

"Thank god. He'd never let me live it down." He capped off the tube.

He planned on analyzing the blood samples first. Teyla came to stand beside him. "I have learned a great deal from the children, but I am unsure if anything will be of any help."

"Anything may be significant."

Teyla nodded. "Very well. Levin told me that four days ago, he became ill with a simple coughing illness. They are common, but normally in the winter months. Very quickly, the cough became worse, and he told me it was hard to breath. The others agree. One said it was like breathing through a thin reed. There were headaches and pains and a great tiredness that would not lift. Levin remembers being fevered."

"Carry on," Carson prompted.

"Gerlin became ill as the first recovered. Some of those who were affected at the same time are improving, but only a few. Those who die do so quickly. The fever builds, and then the coughing subsides. Levin says they slip into a sleep that they cannot be awakened from, and soon they die."

Carson nodded, and filed the information.

"I need to know who became infected and when, as well as who is related to who."

"It will be a difficult task."

Carson agreed. He expected the two hundred odd samples he had collected were going to be the easier part.

"I will begin now. Perhaps some of the adults who are improving will be able to assist." She gathered a PDA and a stylus from the table top and headed to the blankets closest to the door.

-

Once Carson set the system up to automatically scan the samples, he began making his rounds of the 30-odd patients that scattered the floor. He dished out simple analgesics to everyone, and stirred hydrating salts into the jugs of clear water.

All the while his skin itched under the suit. Condensation formed on the inside of the mask, and he had to smear it across his forehead so that he could see.

Ronon began the task of clearing the south corner of the bodies. One at a time, he carried them out of the woolen hanging into the sunlight. He told the villagers that they would need to dig a grave.

-

SGA

-

After an hour of searching the route from the Crethin village to the Stargate, Sheppard finally picked up a group of life signs that could only be Lorne's missing team. As they over-flew the sparse forest, he spotted the bedraggled men making slow progress towards the gate. The team was a mess. At John's side, McKay muttered, "What have they done now?"

One of the figures looked up and spotted the jumper through the branches. He waved an arm and gestured to his colleagues, who in turn looked up as well.

"Try to signal them again," John said, although he didn't hold out much hope. They'd been trying to raise Lorne since they came through the gate. "I want to know if I should be ready to shoot anything when we land."

"I'd say it's a good bet. I doubt even Lorne could get his men in that kind of shape without some help."

Sheppard was inclined to agree. The radio silence only confirmed it.

John brought the jumper down to hover above the sparse treetops, while McKay took the opportunity to stand for a better look.

"Five men," he said. "Three needing help. Lorne I think, and those blond guys."

"Any activity in the vicinity?"

Rodney was silent as he scanned the trees. "I can't see anything."

"Right. We're going fifty meters north."

Half way to the landing site, Rodney's head jerked up. He looked like he'd forgotten something important. It was an expression John had learned to dread.

"What?" he demanded.

"They were waving," Rodney said.

"Of course they were waving. They were glad to see us."

McKay shook his head. His eyes were as large as saucers. "Maybe they weren't waving. Maybe they were warning us."

John resisted the urge to sigh. Rodney had been on edge all day, and it was hardly unexpected that he was jumping at shadows now.

He brought the jumper down into the clearing to land. Rodney studied the life-signs detector, but the only signals were the five limping figures.

Lieutenant De Marco was first out of the trees. John was relieved to see him whole and mostly uninjured. The same couldn't be said for Lorne and Corporal Campbell. They were both limping and supported by the other guys.

"Colonel Sheppard," Lorne said.

John leaned against the doorway of the jumper. He smiled. "Major. Can we give you a lift somewhere?"

"Home would be good, sir." He shrugged off Tony Smith's assistance and hobbled on board himself.

John winked at McKay. This was going to be good.

"So how did the mission to the harvest festival go?" John asked innocently as he gunned the jumper to life.

All four members of the team looked at Tony Smith, "Nice folk, the Crethins," Lorne said. "They just don't like loud noises in the middle of their religious ceremonies."

Tony seemed very interested in the pattern on the floor.

"Go on," John encouraged.

De Marco summed it up. "Imagine a mobile phone going off during your kid's speech in their first school play. Then imagine what you'd want to do to the person owning that phone. They were like a horde of angry parents."

"You got beat up?"

Lorne shrugged. "Not exactly."

"I don't know about you, sir, but I got beat up." De Marco said as he rubbed his knee through his pants.

"Then we discovered they like to collect radios and P-90s."

John smiled. "Would you like to go home then?"

Tony Smith answered. "Yes, sir. And I never want to come back."

-

SGA

-

Two hours later, Carson was no closer to an answer to what was causing the infection. He cursed ignorant computers, and fumed at the conditions he was working in. Good god, he was a geneticist! It was hardly the branch of medicine one chose if they enjoyed working in primitive conditions. He hated the hazmat suit. He hated the clumsy fingers that lacked the co-ordination to actually work a digital microscope. He kept pressing too many keys on the keyboard at once.

And he hated that three more people had come into the hall, coughing. Worst of all though, he hated the bodies that Ronon carried out without complaint. Each one was another family bereft because he hadn't solved the problem quickly enough.

Another three were failing quickly, including the little blond boy with the big eyes who looked his nephew. He had inserted IV's, and given them fluids as well as antibiotics, but there was no change. He didn't have enough supplies and not enough time to both solve the problem and treat those who were ill.

Once he found the foreign agent in the blood, at least he would have a reference to search the other samples.

-

"Doctor Beckett, we are due to check in with home," Teyla said. She put special emphasis on the final word, and Carson was grateful. He did remember they were in hiding, but he was inclined to get distracted.

"Aye." He filled an empty syringe from a vial in his pocket. "Go and give them a call. I'll be right here."

"What shall I report?"

"That I'm still working on it."

Teyla nodded. "Very well."

The second child Carson gave the injection to was a little older. Levin stood at his shoulder and said, "I think he looks a little better."

Carson studied the pale face in front of him. The cheeks were sunken and the veins on his neck stood proud. His pulse was rapid and his breathing shallow.

"Aye, lad, perhaps he is," Carson said.

"Doctor Beckett!" Teyla called urgently.

She so seldom raised her voice that Carson was up in flash. Reflexes that were honed by years of emergency pagers had him up and running to her before his brain had processed what she had said.

Five steps took him to the desk where she stood. She was not beside a patient, but standing at the radio system. It blinked green for a signal received.

"What is it?" Carson demanded. Ronon had joined them.

"The light."

"Aye," Carson said. "It's the radio. It's meant to light up."

Ronon seemed to understand something Carson didn't. "It only lights up when it's receiving a signal."

"From At… home."

Teyla shook her head, still obviously shaken. "I have not contacted them, Doctor. The light was already on. It is receiving a signal from here on this planet."

Carson glanced around the fire-lit room. His patients scattered the floor on piles of blankets. Rays of afternoon sunlight spread in through holes in the walls and curtains. The most complex piece of equipment these people had access to was a weaving loom.

"Who on this planet would have the technology to be signaling us?"

Ronon shrugged and said, "Let's find out."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 

John brought the Jumper smoothly through the 'gate. He immediately felt the tension on board lessen, as though Lorne and his team had been expecting some other trauma to befall them on the way back. He tried to be sympathetic, but it was hard with Rodney sitting at his side, trying to contain his laughter the whole way. None of the Crethins were over four foot tall. Even John had to admit the image of Lorne and his crack team being overpowered a crowd of munchkins was amusing.

Elizabeth spoke over the radio as soon as they cleared the event horizon. "Colonel Sheppard, I'd like you in my office as soon as possible."

John looked around at his passengers (well, not at Rodney, because that would end all pretence of Rodney keeping his laughter in check.) "I don't think Lorne and the guys are in any state to go walking up stairs."

Lorne looked ready to disagree, but Elizabeth said "It's actually you and Rodney I want to speak to. It sounds like Carson's found something."

-

"So, let me make sure I have this right," John said. "You've been signaled by another group of people on the planet. Ones we didn't know anything about."

"Yes," Teyla said. There was no visual available, and her disembodied voice filled the office. "The message is set to repeat every two hours, on an 'automation' system." She hesitated over the unfamiliar word. "The message says – 'Welcome, travelers. We are traders and we wish to meet those with the technological advancement to understand our message, to discuss mutual trading opportunities. Co-ordinates follow. You will be met by a representative."

"Well, they obviously have the technology to make and use radios for a start," Rodney said, barely containing his excitement. He was pacing the office. "Do you know how few civilizations we've met who have advanced to this level of technology?"

Sheppard was lounging on the comfy sofa that took up the back of Weir's office. "The Genii jump to mind…"

"Yes, yes…" Rodney started to answer.

"We would like to know how to proceed." Teyla interrupted over the radio.

Elizabeth considered. "We'll call you in five minutes," she said.

"Very well."

"Thoughts, gentlemen," she invited, as the 'gate shut down.

Rodney answered first. "Can we afford not to?" he said. "Trading opportunities with a population capable of actual scientific achievements doesn't come up very often, and we could do with a whole pile of things. Some of the back-up systems were destroyed during the siege, and we've never been able to get them up and running again..."

Elizabeth sensed he would continue for hours. She interrupted. "John?"

Sheppard shrugged easily. His expression was one of studied indifference, but his eyes were eager. "We could go see," he suggested. "There might not be anything there. It'd be pretty careless to leave something like that to transmit to the Wraith."

Rodney nodded eagerly. "And if there's no one there, we can always see if anything's been left in the shop."

Elizabeth looked at the two. Rodney was unashamedly eager, John lounged casually. "Ok, take a Jumper, see what you can find." She looked at John in particular. "If there's even a hint of danger, you get out."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered with a cocky salute.

-

SGA

-

The co-ordinates in the transmission were on the west coast of an island in the center of the planet's only ocean. It was on the far side from the Stargate. John did not land the Jumper at the village, but one of the team, Ronon probably, waved to them before they cloaked.

They over-flew numerous small villages on the major continent with signs of subsistence agriculture at their periphery. If they had chosen to, they could have observed the day to day lives of the Padanarams untroubled by the Wraith.

It was Rodney who noticed that a lot of the villages seemed deserted.

John brought up the sensor display. There were three villages within range. The west one showed multiple life signs scattered through the buildings. There was a sense, even from this altitude, of industry. None of the blips stayed still. They were all seemed to be moving purposely. He slowed the Jumper and descended closer to one of the other villages.

It was nearly empty of life signs and the more John saw, the more he suspected that those they picked up were either wild animals or domesticated beasts left to roam.

Rodney stood to look out the window. John set the Jumper to hover and joined him.

The buildings were of the same primitive design as those they had seen in Reliquary. It looked like any of a hundred villages they had seen in the Pegasus galaxy; wooden huts seemed to represent the sustainable level of technology that Wraith attacks allowed people to reach on most planets. There were no people to be seen in the village.

A couple of oxen-type creatures meandered between huts. At this altitude John could see what he assumed to be the equivalent of a domestic cat sitting on a roof. A dozen or so chickens pecked through the grass. There were signs of recent occupation; washing hanging on a line and moving slowly in the Jumper's down draft, a large water barrel with a half empty bucket at its side.

"Looks like the Marie Celeste," John said quietly.

He glanced across at Rodney and saw that he wasn't looking at the village itself, but at an open area some way to the north. The grass was yellowed by drought, but it still looked like the village green where quaint English villagers would dance around a May Pole.

Except for the burnt area in the center. John nudged the Jumper nearer for a better look. The earth was black and burned. Some days ago there would have been a bonfire here that would have been visible for miles.

He glanced once more at Rodney. His eyes were fixed on the burned area. The color had washed out his face.

"Rodney," John said, "it was just a bonfire," but even as he said it, he realized the truth. "Oh," he whispered.

Dried wood and dead leaves weren't the only thing you could burn.

"It's a pyre," Rodney whispered.

Now that he looked closer, John could see the blackened objects he had thought were branches were bones.

"Come on," John said, and sat down heavily. He put the Jumper to speed.

Rodney sank down beside him as though the inertia of the Jumper compelled him.

He didn't speak. Even more than panic, Sheppard classed a silent Rodney as a _bad sign_.

He radioed Carson to give Rodney time to gather his thoughts.

"Jumper 4 to Beckett."

There was a pause before Carson said, "Go ahead."

"Well, good, ok." John cast a quick glance across of Rodney again. He was still pale, but he'd lost the green tinge that had made John worry about the interior of his Jumper. Nevertheless, he turned up the air conditioning with a mental nudge. "We did a sweep of a village about fifty miles from your location. No signs of life except farm animals. There was a bonfire on the outskirts that looks like it was used to dispose of bodies."

"Understood," Carson said.

"There are another couple of empty villages within scanning range, and another that looks full of life. I'd say what you're looking at there isn't an isolated phenomena."

"The villagers here have voluntarily cut themselves off from the other villages. It seems their healer was a firm believer in quarantine," Carson said.

"I don't think it made much of a difference," John said. "How's the 'voodoo' coming along?"

That caught Rodney's attention. He gave John a wan smile.

"The medical research," Carson emphasized, "is progressing. I've just found a viral agent in all the affected individuals. It's a DNA virus with a protein coat quite similar to…"

"Doctor," John interrupted. "Am I going to understand this?"

Rodney grinned widely as he fiddled with the scanner controls.

Carson sighed. "Probably not. The bottom line is that this is a damned funny virus. I'm transmitting the data."

John waited patiently for the data stream to arrive. It didn't.

"Carson, there's nothing happening. What did you do?" Rodney demanded.

"It's not my fault," Carson muttered, "if these things choose the moment I touch them to go on the blink."

"Yes, yes, you're just terribly unlucky about these things, and it's nothing to do with the fact that you break things." Rodney snapped, then didn't give Carson time to reply. "Get Ronon to do it."

A second later the promised data lit up the display. John shut off the radio before he said, "You taught Ronon to use the computer relay."

Rodney was reading the data on the display. "He is teaching me some of those defensive moves. I said I'd show him how to use the computers."

"But Ronon?" John said incredulously.

Rodney shrugged. "For someone two steps away from a Neanderthal, he got the hang of it very quickly." He paused, and then added thoughtfully, "He was a whole lot easier to teach than Carson anyway."

John suspected this was less because of Ronon's innate computer ability, and more because of Carson's mortal terror of all technology more complicated than a retractable pencil, unless it was medical equipment. It would be easier to teach Rodney to be sensitive than to teach Carson to work a computer for anything other than medical purposes.

John flicked the switch to open the line again. He glanced through the data, and said. "Ok, Doc. What would you like us to do with this?"

"There's something bloody strange about this virus. I'm still building up the DNA sequence, but there's something I can't put my finger on. It'd be helpful to know if there's any sign of illness on that island. The med-kit on the Jumper has a few venepuncture kits…"

"I'm not taking anyone's blood, Carson," Rodney said loudly.

"Just a couple of drops in one of the purple top tubes from anyone you can find. Use the blood glucose lancets."

"Understood," John said. "We'll ask the locals when we arrive."

Rodney muttered under his breath. "You want me to take blood."

"Just a finger prick test."

"Humph."

John suspected he had just been volunteered to do the tests.

-

SGA

-

Levin called out. "Sir!"

Carson gave the radio to Ronon and hurried to Levin's side. The little boy who looked like Carson's nephew had closed his eyes, and would not open them. Carson cursed under his breath. He had struggled to insert another IV earlier, but was handicapped by the plastic gloves. The lad was so shut down now it would have been impossible even in Atlantis' infirmary.

Teyla placed a hand on his elbow. "I think it is too late, Doctor," she said quietly.

Carson looked at the little form. Levin knelt beside the dying child and stroked his hair in a gesture that was far in excess of his years. "He is a friend."

The little body was breathing in deep gulps that Carson knew were a final sign. After hours of shallow gasping, his lungs were desperate for air now. His lips were blue and his skin was sallow. The failing body managed two more clutches of air before it ended.

Carson wished he could check a pulse, but the gloves prevented him. Giving up was hard and he had never been good at it. He envied colleagues who could accept death as a natural end. He always fought against it, perhaps too strongly at times. But always for children. Always.

Levin placed a blanket over the body. Teyla held out a hand, but she did not seem to mind that she was ignored.

"Those who die are not the only victims," she whispered to Carson.

"Aye," Carson replied. He touched the dead child gently. "Go in peace, little one."

Then the equipment bleeped to indicate the samples were complete.

Ronon stood beside the desk as though keeping guard. He frowned, and Carson suspected he knew the reason.

"Are you regretting volunteering for this part of the mission?" he asked.

Ronon growled deep in his chest. Carson patted him on the elbow, safe in the knowledge that they were both in hazmat suits and it didn't really count as skin-to-skin contact.

"Sheppard and McKay will get into trouble." Ronon said. It was not a question.

Carson was inclined to agree. "They do have a tendency for getting into mischief." He checked out the sample containers. Each contained an air sample from around the room. The computer blipped negative for them all.

Carson sighed in a cross between relief and frustration. Relief that it wasn't an air borne contaminant and frustrated that he would have to keep looking. It also meant they could do without the suits.

"That shouldn't happen," Ronon said.

Carson looked at the readings and couldn't understand why the Runner should have a problem with them, then saw that Ronon was looking at the dead child. "Aye, lad," he agreed softly.

Ronon stalked across the room towards Teyla she could lift the burden. He looked too big for the room, like a lion in a cage. Without comment, he picked up the little body and gently carried it outside.

Carson carefully checked the sample results one more time, and then cracked open the seal on his suit and began to pull it off.

The first thing to assault him was the smell. It was an incredibly human smell of sweat and blood, mingled with the unmistakable aroma of sickness. It was overpowering. After the filtered air of the suit, it made his eyes water.

The harsh breathing was louder now too. Ronon had gathered the dead child into his arms and carried his burden to the door. Levin joined Carson. "Why have you taken it off?" the boy asked.

"There is no virus in the air."

Levin nodded. "You're just a man underneath," he said, and reached out and touched Carson's uniform.

Carson put out a hand, "Where I come from, it is custom to shake the hand of someone you are newly introduced to." He took Levin's small hand in his own. "My name is Carson Beckett."

The boy smiled widely. "My name is Levin."

Carson winked as he said "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. The lady is Teyla Emmagan."

Teyla unclipped the hood first and allowed it to drop behind her head. She pulled a hand out of the suit, and took the boy's hand too. "I am glad to meet you," she said.

Ronon was returning, and already stepping out of the hated suit. Carson whispered, "And the big man is Ronon Dex." Before Carson could stop him, Levin put his hand out for Ronon to shake.

Carson held his breath, but Ronon shook Levin's hand with gravity. "You are Levin," he said, "and I am Ronon Dex."

Despite having to crane his neck to answer, Levin did so with aplomb. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir," he repeated.

Ronon nodded solemnly. "We no longer need the suits?" he asked Carson.

Carson indicated the computer screen. "The virus isn't air borne."

"How is it being passed then?"

"I don't know yet."

Ronon looked out at the sea of sick children and adults. "Doesn't matter," he said. "Their families can see them."

His expression was a cross between sadness and sympathy. Carson was struck by how long seven years was to be on your own.


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: We're getting there. This is just a little chapter, but things have been put in motion now...

Again, thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews. They are just incredibly cool. I've started haunting the computer, clicking refresh just to see if any new ones have arrived since last time. Everyone does that, don't they?

Once again, this whole enterprise would have been a disaster without Ellex and GA Unicorn. Thank you both so much for turning this into something sensible.

Once again, I still don't own Atlantis. Or the X-Files (but at least I know what the show's called. Seems that Sheppard doesn't...)

* * *

Chapter 6 

John brought the cloaked Jumper down at the co-ordinates the message had instructed. The land was flat in all directions, except directly in front of their landing point. They were faced with a single grassy hill standing proud in the flat plain. Its east and west sides were steep, but there was a gentle slope running from north to south, and a cliff at its far end

Rodney chattered away. He seemed to have recovered from the shock of the pyre in the village. "I've got energy readings tracking on a structure underground. I'd guess most of that hill is made up of tunnels. I can't get exact dimensions, or an idea of the layout, but it's big. The energy distribution indicates it's at least the same diameter as the boundaries of Reliquary.

"How much energy? ZPM energy?"

"Not quite as much as that, but at least a couple of generators."

John looked slightly disappointed.

"I don't know why everything has to be a ZedPM for you to be interested. Size isn't everything," Rodney said defensively. "Energy readings of this magnitude aren't to be sniffed at. And, at any rate, it indicates a technologically advanced population. We could do with trading partners a little bit more sophisticated than Iron Age rustics."

John scanned through the sensor data. "There's no sign of anything on the surface at all. No sign of agriculture or habitation." The same green grass continued as far as the eye could see.

"I'd guess that would be a defensive measure. Our sensors aren't giving us any information on anything inside that hill, except that something's powering it. At the moment all I can say is it looks like an ore in the rock causing the interference, but I can't be more specific. Could even be a shield," he said excitedly. "Either way, it could be a defense against the Wraith."

John nodded. It was an almost perfect hiding place for an advanced population. "As soon as the Wraith arrive, you turn off the lights, and let them cull the villages on the continent. There's enough feeding material there to keep them going, so they wouldn't even bother to look on this island."

"There would have to be tight population control. There's no room for expansion within a fixed system," Rodney mused. "That would be worse with no space foragriculture. And it would explain why they call themselves traders. They'd have to get their essentials from elsewhere."

Sheppard stood. They could discuss this for days. If they were going to do this, they should get going. "We've got everything we're going to from out here. Let's go do the meet and greet."

Rodney got to his feet and tucked a life signs detector into his pocket. One of the energy readers went into his bag with the Jumper's med-kit. Two power bars were slipped into the breast pockets of his vest. He hung a torch on his belt loops. "Ok, ready," he said.

John grinned and handed him his 9-mil.

"Oh, wouldn't want to forget that."

John clipped his P-90 to his vest as Rodney adjusted the straps of his rucksack.

"Ready?"

Rodney grinned. "Ready."

The first thing to hit John as he stepped through the hatch was the warm sunshine. Compared to the air conditioned Jumper, the heat was tropical. The sun was at his back as he looked towards the hill. Their visibility was good, but anyone standing at the hill would have sunlight glaring in their eyes.

The hill rose in front of them from the flat plain. Grass and flowers bloomed and a rapid survey of the surroundings had a brush of trees at two o'clock and nothing else. It was sparse and would provide poor cover.

If this was an ambush, it was a very poor location to chose.

He waved to Rodney inside the Jumper, and slowly lowered his P-90.

Rodney made it two steps down the ramp before he sneezed. "Great. Pollens," he muttered thickly.

John grinned, but continued to visually scan the hill in front of them.

"Well, aside from the obvious florid plant life," Rodney said, "I'm not getting any animal or human life signs in…" he paused, then added, "except that one."

Sheppard had been studying the far end of the hill. He tracked back around to where Rodney indicated. Thirty feet away stood a human-looking male where before there had been only grass. "Did he just appear?" he demanded.

"Right out of the hill," Rodney agreed. He sounded far less freaked out than John felt. He sounded excited.

"How?"

"Cloaking!" McKay was grinning like an idiot. "What do you suppose we look like when we come out of the Jumper's cloak?" He waved the detector around in a random manner and continued to chatter excitedly. "Their cloak seems to be the same design as the Ancient version. I'm picking up the same sub-harmonics from a sonar pulse, but otherwise it's hidden." He looked like a kid in a sweet shop.

"So, it's safe to assume that they're a bit beyond just radio sophistication," John asked.

"Even if it's an Ancient cloak and all they do is turn it on every time the Wraith appear, it's a good bet."

The man hadn't moved from his spot beside what John now assumed was an entrance to some underground complex. He was tall – certainly taller than the Padanarams, and dressed in finely embroidered robes. Unlike the villagers they had met, his hair was dark. At this distance it was impossible to see specifics of his features.

At John's side, Rodney was shifting from foot to foot impatiently.

"Alright, then," Sheppard said at last. "Let's go do this."

"About time."

John led the way across the grass. Rodney bounced along a step behind. It was a formation that only worked when the scientist was distracted by some reading or other on the scanner. Normally he would throw all precaution to the wind and either edge in front or trail twenty feet behind.

Ten paces away, the figure bowed in greeting.

John was always aware of feeling out of his depth in these situations. Teyla told him he did very well, but he couldn't help but wonder if the number of people who took a dislike to them was somehow due to his lack of diplomatic skills.

The man rose slowly from the bow. He had an aquiline nose and a high forehead. His long dark hair was tied out of his face.

Rule Number Two in Sheppard's 'How to Survive Alien Meetings Guide' was _Do what they do_.

He bowed. The man smiled and held out its hands in what Sheppard thought was a peaceful gesture. Of course that couldn't be taken as read. Rule Number One was _Don't trust anyone_.

Rule Number Three was _Don't leave McKay where you can't see him, _but that hadn't presented itself yet.

John didn't put his out arms in the same expansive gesture, but walked at what he hoped was the right pace towards the man: not too fast, in case that was interpreted as aggressiveness, but not too slow either. He didn't want to appear disinterested.

He always felt better once the talking started.

"Welcome," said the man.

"Hi," he said. Teyla despaired of what he actually said in these situations, but he had tried to explain that he just went with his gut feelings.

He wished she were here now.

"Welcome to the Traders. It is many years since we have had interested buyers come to us. There is opportunity for mutual benefit."

Rodney clicked his tongue at something, but John ignored him.

"We're pleased to meet you. You mentioned in your message something about trading opportunities." Might as well get straight to the point.

The man nodded. "We are traders and gatherers. Our livelihood is made by the goods which we barter, but there are now fewer people who trade with us. The Wraith have been more active these past months and we have not heard from many of our customers." He sighed, and then continued in a brighter tone, "Your arrival has caused much excitement. And it is at a fortunate moment, for we have new items under development which we hope will interest you. We are glad you could answer our message."

"We were glad to hear it," Rodney said, unable to contain himself any longer.

John glared at him, even though, in the grand scheme of Rodney-inappropriate-comments, this was mild. He'd managed to keep quiet for almost a minute.

"I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, and this is Doctor Rodney McKay."

"I am a Trader," the man said. He looked abashed. "You must excuse us, for our names are private."

John nodded.

He couldn't help it. He tried not to. He tired to think about something else – anything else, but his brain did it anyway. _Frank_. The guy looked like a _Frank_.

"We are pleased that you feel we are trustworthy enough to share your names." 'Frank' said.

"Ok," John said.

Rodney didn't say anything; he was studying the scanner.

'Frank' continued, "Come with me. We have many things to discuss."

This was their chance to back out. They could make their excuses and dodge back into the Jumper, with no shame. 'Funny business', Elizabeth had said, and he wasn't sure if blatant self-advertising counted. John glanced at Rodney, who was barely containing his excitement. He was back to bouncing from foot to foot. Of course, John knew that if he had relied on Rodney's sense of caution he would have been lost a long time ago.

Remember Rule Number One, _Trust no one_. It worked for that FBI guy who looked for aliens on TV.

"Colonel," Rodney said impatiently. "Are we going to do this? Because I've got a couple of experiments running back on At…"

John jumped onto the word. They were trying to keep Atlantis a s_ecret_! "Yes, yes, ok, let's go."

Rodney glared at John, and John glared back.

"Yes, Rodney. Experiments running _at _home," he emphasized. "Where we live."

McKay had the decency to look embarrassed. "Of course, obviously," he blundered.

John turned to 'Frank'. "Lead the way."

The man nodded his head and started towards the grass wall. His robes swished on the grass then he disappeared. Rodney followed him into the vertical grass wall without pause. John found himself alone on the empty plain staring at the grass. He could hear the clicking of insects.

He had to admit it, at least to himself; he didn't like the thought of walking through a grass wall. Jumpers were ok, and he'd recovered from the initial distrust of the stargate, but cloaked doors in hillsides were a bit too much like fairy mounds in a Gaelic fairytale.

Rodney poked his head back through, so he appeared as a disembodied head in the grass. "Are you coming, Sheppard?"

He disappeared back through the cloaked doorway.

Rule Number Three, John said to himself. _Never leave Rodney where you can't see what he's doing_.

John swallowed once. He closed his eyes and took a step over the invisible threshold.

With his eyes closed, he was hit by the cool breeze of air conditioning again.

He opened his eyes. 'Frank' was watching him sympathetically. Rodney was grinning widely.

"Glad you could join us, Colonel Sheppard," he said.

"I'd hate for you to go exploring without me.

Rodney's expression bordered on the obscene side of pleasure.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Remember what I said about roller coasters. We're getting very close to the first summit.

Again, thanks to ga Unicorn and Ellex for their unrivalled beta advice. In particular for reining in the medi-speak. I tend to get a tad carried away.

* * *

Chapter 7

"There it is!" Carson exclaimed. The results he had been waiting for began scrolling across the laptop screen; positive results that indicated the source of the infection.

Teyla came to his side. "You have results, Dr. Beckett?" she asked.

"I think I've traced it," he said.

He spared a quick glance across the hall. There had been an influx of relatives when he had reported that the air was clear. They had taken over the care of their sick family members, removing the burden from the youngsters. Levin slept in a corner. Someone, Carson thought it might have been Ronon, had placed a clean blanket over the boy's shoulders.

The increase in helping hands had freed Carson to concentrate on the research.

"What have you found?" Teyla asked.

He grinned at her. "It's in the drinking water. Levin said came from the barrels. The Padanarams have been bringing it in for the sick to drink." He waved a hand at the half empty jug on the table. "There's a high concentration of viral DNA and protein coat in these samples, but none from the common well water." He emptied the half empty cups into the jug. "Perhaps you could ask Rina to tell the people not to drink the contaminated water from the barrels. I've got a couple of ideas on how to treat it."

She nodded and left the quarantined building. Ronon had already escaped the busy hall, citing a sudden need to check the perimeter.

Carson slipped a preloaded plate into the analyzer to begin testing the effects of the anti-virals he had brought from Atlantis. With the process commenced, he watched the slow progress of the DNA mapping. Segments were already in place. He reviewed what he could see. He was a geneticist at heart and the more he saw of this viral code, the surer he was that there was something unusual with this virus. There was something wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

-

SGA

-

The room John found himself in appeared to be a spacious antechamber brightly lit from strips built vertically into the grey walls. The ceiling was high enough not to trigger Rodney's claustrophobia.

'Frank' said, "Welcome to the home of the Traders," as he led them through a large doorway to a series of corridors as brightly lit as the antechamber. They were decorated with rich wall hangings and items of furniture that wouldn't have looked out of place in a museum.

'Frank' indicated items of special interest. He called them 'relics from long dead cultures'.

"This hanging," he began, waving his hand at a dark affair with deep reds and purples, "was from Llafanaat and shows the battle of Llafanenaocor." He stopped at another. "This one shows the destruction of Urons – a particularly ghastly affair. And this is my favorite," he said as he stopped in front of an enormous tapestry as tall as John, and double that in width. "Here you can see the Rozzico fighting against the Wraith. It was a battle to the last man, and we are lucky that one of the watching survivors 'gated to another planet and commissioned the creation of such art."

Sheppard studied the tapestry. The top left corner showed familiar arrow shaped crafts firing lightning at a group of unfortunates huddled on the right. Beneath the ships were a group of figures brandishing spears and swords. John wasn't surprised that no one survived if they were using spears against Wraith darts.

"Come, come," 'Frank' said, happily. He sounded like an enthusiastic gallery guide. "There is so much else to see."

Rodney and John shared a glance. "If he tries to sell us any of these monstrosities, we're leaving, Atlantis shield or not, McKay," Sheppard whispered.

McKay was staring at the tapestry with obvious distaste. "You'll have no arguments here, Sheppard."

-

"So, have the Traders been here long?" John asked to try and prevent further discussion of the wall hangings. Rodney sighed, but made no other comment. He once likened Sheppard's "First Contacts" a parade of failed chat up lines.

'Frank' didn't seem to mind. "The Traders have always lived here. There are myths that tell of a time when we lived on the surface, but there are many Traders who do not believe this ever happened. Certainly we have lived here since our records began, and I believe we have always done so."

"Do you trade with the continent?" John asked conversationally. They were now walking past a painting now that showed an army in a colorful local uniform, and he wanted to head off the tour-guide chat.

'Frank' leaned toward Sheppard and said conspiratorially, "We must trade with the Padanarams, it is true, but we find it… difficult to meet with them to discuss terms. They really are simple peasants. There are some Traders who say that we once lived like the primitive Padanarams. In huts, if you can believe it, growing our own food and collecting our own water. Much of the trading we do with them is in secret – we provide payment, and they provide goods. Of course, our most profitable trading is off-world."

"And how…?" Rodney asked, but 'Frank' interrupted.

"We are most fortunate in having a single, small craft that will ferry us to our trading partners. There were once many more," he said sadly, "but they have failed. We have tried to repair them, but without success."

Perhaps Rodney was finally learning discretion (or perhaps it was the swift kick to the shins delivered by Sheppard), but for once the scientist didn't offer his services.

'Frank' continued to talk about the 'outlandish' theories of the origins of the Traders as he led them further into the tunnels. John filtered out most of what the man was saying, something about the progress of civilization away from poverty.

This place was familiar, John thought. He was struck by a sense of déjà vu, but he couldn't place what it reminded him of. He stepped around a rug in shades of orange and blue and tried to imagine the corridors without the disturbing decor, but the assault on the senses was too powerful. It would come to him, eventually. He wanted to ask Rodney what he thought, but 'Frank's' constant conversation was making it difficult to get a word in.

Rodney was ignoring 'Frank' as well. He was absorbed in the handheld again. He was probably getting readings from the energy source that had had him so excited in earlier.

They turned a corner and stopped at a large door. 'Frank' said, "We would like to show you some of the items we have available. We have some specialty goods that I'm sure you will be very interested in."

"And what would they be?" John asked hesitantly. Please, not those pieces of 'art'.

"We would like to show you."

"I'm not sure what goods we can offer you."

"We shall leave the discussion of payment until you have seen what we have to offer." He paused to palm open the door.

"This is our main area of research," 'Frank' said as the door swished open to reveal an enormous room. He stepped back like a magician at the culmination of the trick.

It was lit from the same vertical strip lights as the corridors, and what was visible of the wall was divided into panels. There were large tasseled cushions in one far-away corner and more of the unsettling tapestries and paintings decorated the walls. A number of Traders were scattered around the room, and looked up at their arrival.

There was something even more familiar about this room. If John hadn't known better, he would have thought he was in space, and not in a tunnel under the ground.

In the center of the room, John's eye was caught by large tables with computers and other scientific equipment that wouldn't have looked out of place in any of the Atlantis labs.

Rodney saw them, too, and said in awe, "Oh, boy."

To the left were long aisles with what appeared to be targets at the end. The wall was darkened with what appeared to be blast patterns.

A couple of the Traders glided over in long robes to meet them. "We have a number of objects we would like to show you," 'Frank' said. The other Traders nodded. "We shall start with our most popular items. Projectile weapons." He directed them towards a table with piles of equipment scattered upon the top.

Weapons, John thought dumfounded, as he and Rodney trailed after 'Frank'. They were selling weapons.

-

They were introduced to a shorter Trader, with a pockmarked face, whom John involuntarily christened 'Arthur'. He was very enthusiastic about projectile weapons. He took John's arm and tugged him towards a table with a variety of guns laid out.

"These are our most popular items," he said happily. John thought he sounded like a child showing off his new toys to the rest of the school-yard. He handed a small pistol-sized weapon to John. "It is based on plans we discovered in our database. We call it the Isiso-hand weapon after the author of the design plans."

John hefted it between his hands to assess the balance. It was lighter than he liked, but the grip was comfortable. He extended his arm, and sighted down the barrel.

"Ah, you would like to try it," 'Arthur' said, smiling. "We have areas for testing. There are other designs I would like to show you. Sadly, we don't have many visitors to our research area, so we normally only use the range for simple tests. It is very exciting to have other traders here to try out the weapons."

'Arthur' gathered up an assortment of other weapons, different handguns and a couple of larger guns of a size similar to the P-90. "Of course, I'm only an expert in the small arms, but my companions will be happy to show you the larger caliber items. I see you favor one of those…"

John looked around for Rodney, who was talking to 'Frank' beside the computer tables. Rodney was saying, "I would be very interested to see how you overcome the degradation."

'Frank' nodded, and said, "I shall speak to a fellow Trader who will be pleased to discuss information exchanges. I will ask him to attend momentarily."

John asked, "McKay, is everything alright?"

Rodney waved a hand. "Yeah. There's a couple of things here I'd like to look at a bit closer." He looked lost in thought – probably a shopping list of items he'd like from the Traders.

John assessed the distance between the shooting range and where Rodney had become engrossed in the computers. The scientist would remain within visual range, so John wouldn't be breaking Rule Number Three.

"Run along and play with your guns," Rodney said.

"Don't break anything,"

Rodney cast him a scathing look, and then turned his back to peer at the computer screen.

John shrugged at 'Arthur', who smiled back toothily.

-

SGA

-

Carson put down another unsuccessful trial of anti-virals, and turned to face Teyla. Rina stood at her side, watching Carson work. He realized that the population of the hall had increased again.

"They do know that I've no idea how to cure it yet?" he asked.

Rina answered. "They know we have no other hope now," she said sadly.

Carson sighed. So, no pressure, then.

"I have instructed the young men to move the barrels back to the Sacred Site," Rina said. "No one will drink the water from them."

Carson slipped another set of samples, this time loaded with another anti-viral. "Sacred Site?" he asked absently.

"Where the water is left for us."

The computer screen was blank for the moment, and he looked up at Rina and Teyla. "What do you mean, ma'am?"

"The barrels are left at the Sacred Site where the gods fill them for us. Then we bring them to the houses. For a hundred years we have left a tithe to the gods at the Sacred Site, and they provide wool or cloth. Three months ago, there was a drought, and they provided water. The barrels were last filled six days ago and distributed among the village. Gerlin thought it would be safer to drink because it appeared cleaner than the well water."

Carson thought, _He couldn't have been more wrong_. The virus was only present in this water 'gifted' by the gods, and the village's own well was clear.

The thought triggered off another idea in Carson's mind. He remembered the puzzling DNA sequence.

"Oh, god," he whispered. He had a sinking sensation as the pieces fell into place. He recognized the unusual sequences now.

Teyla did not speak but stepped out of the way as Carson rushed to the computer. He pulled up the DNA of the virus, then the highlighted sequences.

It was junk DNA. Why would there be junk DNA in a virus? It was too small and too conserved to have evolved its own. And the sequences were familiar: human DNA engineered into the virus.

And that meant…

"Oh, god," he whispered again.

"Dr. Beckett?" Teyla said.

"It's an artificial virus."

"What do you mean?"

He looked up from the computer screen to Teyla's confused face. "It's man-made."

"Do you mean someone caused this?" she asked. She indicated the gathered populace in the hall. "Who would do such a thing?"

"The people who gave them the water," Ronon said from his slouched position against the wall.

"The gods?" Rina asked.

Ronon shook his head. "The people on the radio."

Teyla gasped, and he shrugged. "It's obvious."

Carson cringed. It was obvious, and he'd missed it. And he'd let Sheppard walk into a trap.

Teyla grabbed the radio and signaled Sheppard.

"Teyla to Sheppard."

There was no reply. She tried again, and there was still no answer.

"Oh, dear," Carson whispered.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

Rodney fiddled absently with the handheld as he waited. The energy readings were stronger here than they had been on the surface, and he would have liked to track them further. Perhaps the Information-Exchange-Trader would be able to arrange a tour of the engineering section.

A couple of other Traders, a woman and a tall man, stood at the port-side wall. (_Port side? Did he think he was on a ship?)_ They were deep in hushed conversation, but seemed to sense Rodney's interest. The woman looked up and smiled. The man did not. His face was marked by a scar running down his left cheek. _I guess weapons trading isn't a particularly safe occupation, _Rodney thought as he waved.

The other people scattered around seemed to be hard at work, researching. He approved of that. Most of the computer terminals had Traders sitting in front of them scrolling through or inputting information. He glanced around once more for the Information-Exchange-Trader, but there was no sign of him.

No-one seemed to be paying Rodney any attention at all.

Sheppard was still on the firing range. He was looking at the walls, of all things, and seemed to have lost all interest in the weapon in his hand. The excitable Trader at his side had put all his merchandise down and was waving animatedly and pointing at the big doors. Rodney had no idea what they could be discussing.

He debated going to join them, but another opportunity presented itself. A white haired Trader stepped away from the nearest computer. Thankfully he ignored Rodney. Despite his despair of Sheppard's "How to flirt your way into the good books of a new culture"-techniques he knew that the McKay method of meeting new people wouldn't be any more successful. After all, he didn't understand half the things his own people did.

However, he did understand computers.

The white haired fellow walked towards the hideous cushions in the far corner of the room. He left the computer unattended.

Rodney glanced at it. His fingers twitched, and he stuck them firmly into his pockets. He checked on Sheppard again – firing guns at a target on the wall.

His fingers were itching even inside his pockets.

Even as he edged closer to the computer, he pretended interest in the rest of the room. The scar-faced Trader and his companion were speaking animatedly now. The man with the scar seemed to be saying something that the other disagreed with. Rodney hoped it was just coincidence that every time they pointed it seemed to be in his direction.

As he leaned against the table top closer to the computer, he checked a last time on Sheppard. He was deep in discussion, probably of how to cart those guns back to Atlantis.

Rodney looked at the computer. He took his hands out of his pockets. After all, why did John bring him on missions, if not to liaise with the technology? He pulled up a stool, and pressed a button.

It was inevitable, really. Like presenting Adam and Eve with a bag of Granny Smiths and telling them not to eat.

-

The computer flashed from the darkened screen to a page of Ancient script. A graphic twirled lazily in the top right corner. It was the picture that caught his attention first. It was familiar, but Rodney couldn't think where he had seen it before. It seemed to be an undulating set of random lines. No hard corners anywhere, and he knew that meant some kind of fuzzy science. He had turned on a computer in a foreign database and discovered medical research! Carson would find that very amusing.

He understood some Ancient through trying to decipher the Atlantis systems. It wasn't worth bringing out the translation matrix for medical research, but he scrolled through the pages nevertheless.

And words jumped out at him from months looking for warnings on Ancient Tech systems. It translated as "Illness of War."

The graphic was stationary as he scrolled the text. He recognized it at last – "the damned funny virus" that Carson had found in the village. It was on this computer, identical to the image that Ronon had sent in the data-stream.

Damn.

He touched the keypad, and the data scrolled past. He scanned through, and found the phrase repeated again and again: "Illness of War".

"Oh my god," he whispered.

The scar-faced man appeared at his side.

"Are you interested in this product?" he said smoothly, and indicated the computer screen. "It is still in the testing process, but we are already having good results with our test subjects."

Rodney was aware of his jaw dropping.

The man continued on without pause. "It is a water based viral agent that our science staff have synthesized from the local DNA on this planet. The technique was described in our database by a scientist called Tobiass, and we have named it the Tobiass Technique. We have high hopes that it can be developed to be specific enough to affect only a target population. At the moment, I am afraid there is some cross contamination among groups of humans and our delivery methods are somewhat crude, but the research is showing some promise."

Rodney found his voice. "You made a viral agent and you've been testing it on the people in the villages." He felt ill.

The man nodded and smiled easily. "The agents always require testing." He indicated Sheppard on the firing range.

"But you've been using people for your tests!"

"One must always move onto human experimentation eventually."

"I don't believe this," Rodney began, then realized that he did.

John must have sensed that something was wrong. He put down the weapon and strode over to the computer, followed by the short Trader.

"Is there something wrong?" John asked.

"Congratulations on noticing the blindingly obvious again, Sheppard! Do you take classes in understatement? No, no problem here," Rodney answered, and then waved his hand at the computer. "Oh, except these kind people leading us around are a bunch of arms dealers who've branched out into genocide."

"Rodney," John said warningly.

"Do you remember the nice little village we visited with the plague upon its doorstep? All those people getting sick and dying? Well, I've just done Carson's work for him. I've traced his viral agent, and worked out what's so damn odd about it. Here!" He twirled the computer so that John had a better view of the diagram in the corner.

"Rodney…" John said again.

There was no stopping now. "Oh yes, and here we are getting a sales pitch from the murderers of those children. Don't worry though; they haven't got it quite right yet. But I'm sure once they get their data back from the village they'll have made enormous leaps forward…"

"McKay. Stop talking."

At last the tone got through. Rodney let the next part of the tirade die on his lips as he looked around at the Traders. They had gathered from the nearby computers. There were no more pleasant smiles. They all frowned. The scar-faced man had narrowed his eyes and looked furious.

Very rarely, maybe once or twice in his life, Rodney got the feeling that he'd said too much.

The scarred Trader asked in a low voice, "Do you have a problem with the application of our products?"

Rodney started to say "Yes," then thought again. "No."

John moved to stand at his side. "I think what Dr McKay was trying to say was…" he stalled.

Rodney cringed. It had been perfectly clear what he had been trying to say. However, he tried to fill the gap. "I was trying to say how interesting this Tobiass technique is."

John nodded. "Very interesting."

None of the assembled Traders looked convinced.

"Perhaps you could show us more data," John waved his arm at the computer.

The scarred man said to the woman he had been talking to earlier, "I told you we were foolish to try this."

She seemed resigned, but her face was hard. She nodded, and Rodney had a dreadful sense that some doom had been signaled.

"We had planned for this part of the tour later," the man said, "but it seems that circumstances have overtaken us. There is a great deal more we would like to show you."

For a second Rodney thought that they might have got away with it. That was before the hiss of gas registered.

The world began fading to blackness as soon as the acrid smell hit. He had a moment to realize that the Traders didn't seem affected at all, before he lost consciousness.

-

SGA

-

"I do not understand why anyone would choose to target these people," Teyla said as she gazed across the room.

"Who knows why anyone chooses to do anything," Ronon said.

Carson sensed that for Ronon, everyone's motivations were an acceptable mystery.

"No idea," Carson shrugged. For this kind of crime, he had no clue to offer. It was a bloody good question.

"We need to contact Atlantis. Dr Weir should be informed, and we will need a Jumper if we are to reach Colonel Sheppard.," Teyla said.

"Agreed." He was glad she was here.

"Ronon and I shall contact them from the Gate. You should stay here, Doctor, and continue to work on helping these people."

Carson nodded. There didn't seem to be anything else to do.

Ronon shouldered his weapon and Teyla picked up the handheld. He led the way out through the crush of bodies and ignored the sick. Teyla followed with graceful steps. She touched a boy's mussed up hair.

Carson watched them go, and then emptied out another tray of failed samples. That anti-viral had been ineffective as well. He was running out of medications to try. He loaded up the last one, without much hope.

-

Teyla jogged through the village. She had a sense of urgency that couldn't be wholly explained. They had to reach the gate, dial Atlantis and call for at least one Puddle Jumper to go to the co-ordinates on the far island.

Yet, despite the simplicity of the task, she was running because she had a sense that she was already too late.

No-one interrupted them, or followed, probably because of imposing figure that trotted at her side. He did not question why she felt the need to hurry, and she was grateful.

The stargate came into sight between two huts.

She pulled out the handheld to enter her IDC at the same moment Ronon shoved her hard enough to make her trip down to her knees.

"Ronon!" she said and turned to chastise him, when the reason for his reaction became clear.

The sky was pierced by two bright lights from what seemed to be an empty point twenty feet above them. They streaked across her vision towards the ground.

She flung her hands over her ears.

Something up ahead exploded in a burst of light and smoke.

The compression wave hit at the same moment as the sound. She was sprayed with debris and dust. She shifted her hands to protect her eyes.

In less time than one heartbeat to another, the sound was gone. Utter silence filled its vacuum. Before she had gathered her wits she was aware of Ronon on his feet again and firing into the dusty air.

He fired unerringly at the spot the light had come from (lasers, some part of her mind supplied), but stunner blasts disappeared into the sky. Whatever had fired was gone.

She climbed to her feet, slower than Ronon had. She stood at his side as he gazed around for any sign of the weapon's source.

"Cloaked ship," was all he said.

When she was convinced that there was not going to be a repeat, she turned her attention to the ground. The dust hung heavy in the air. At first she couldn't see any change; she was still standing in a smooth clearing and the huts at the periphery of the clearing were undamaged. The Gate loomed just as imposingly as they always did.

Then the faint tendrils of smoke swirling in the dust caught her eye and she realized what the target had been. It was so efficiently destroyed that there was nothing left but smoke.

The DHD was gone.

Ronon followed her gaze. "That is not good," he said simply.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 

"What the bloody hell happened?" Carson demanded. Children were crying, and rumors that the sky was falling had spread like a windswept blaze around the village.

Teyla and Ronon stood at the door. They were soot stained. Teyla's face was nearly black and rubble had lodged in her clothes. Her hands were covered in small grazes. Ronon was sporting a newly developing black eye. He frowned with such ferocity that the villagers shrank away. He looked like the feral Runner Carson remembered removing the tracking device from.

"We have a problem," Teyla said. She picked a route through the gathered patients. Ronon stalked in her footsteps.

"And?" Carson said.

Teyla looked at Ronon. He didn't seem inclined to add anything, so Teyla said, "The DHD has been destroyed."

"So the noise…?"

"Was weapons firing on the DHD."

"Oh, god," Carson breathed.

He sat heavily on the box he had been using as a stool and stared across the room. What the hell was he supposed to do now? They were trapped here. He didn't know how they were to get home. And Sheppard wasn't answering the radio and could be in trouble. "That's not good," he said quietly.

Teyla shared her concerned glances between Ronon, who was pacing in the cramped space, and Carson. The doctor knew he must be white as a sheet and felt uncomfortably close to hyperventilating. All he could think was that he never should have gone through the stargate this morning. He knew it was going to end badly. He really wasn't meant for this kind of adventuring.

"When I get the people who did this," Ronon muttered as he paced, "they'll wish they never learned to work a radio."

Carson looked around the primitive hut and tried to keep his worry at bay.

He became aware of a gentle hand on his arm. "There is a DHD inside Sheppard's jumper, Dr. Beckett, and home is due to contact us in six hours," Teyla said.

The world shifted back into focus for Carson, and he was instantly embarrassed by his near panic. "Aye, lass," he whispered, and put a thankful hand on hers. He stood again. "Let's try contacting him again."

Teyla tried the radio but it remained silent. Ronon cursed and disappeared out into the village.

Because there was nothing else he could do, Carson turned back to the problem of the villagers. He had tested the last anti-viral on the blood samples, and it had had no effect. However, he was meeting marginal success with basic measures. Those most mildly affected seemed to improve with simple supportive treatments; hydration, chest physio and antibiotics to prevent opportunistic infections. But those with massive viral exposure (he guessed those who had drunk greater quantities of the affected water) died despite everything he did.

The apparent, if limited success seemed to galvanize the villagers' confidence in him to supply an answer.

They brought them hot drinks made with the well water. There was nothing else Carson or Teyla could think of to do, but wait for Sheppard and McKay or Atlantis to get in touch with them.

-

SGA

-

The world was moving. Something was thumping the world up and down, up and down. It was giving him a headache. "Go 'way," he murmured.

Instead of helping, the shaking got worse. Then he realised that it wasn't the world moving, but him. Someone was shaking him by the shoulder. It was accompanied by frantic words, but he couldn't follow them. Why the hell were they waking him up so soon anyway?

"Go away!" he said more forcefully this time, but opened his eyes anyway.

"Sheppard, wake up!" Rodney hissed. At least he stopped shaking John's shoulder.

Groggily, John answered, "I'm awake."

"Oh, thank god." Rodney sat down on his heels.

John rubbed a hand across his eyes as the headache cleared. His surroundings gradually came into focus. He was lying on the deck by Rodney's knees. Horizontal towel-rail things decorated the walls again, but they were poorly illuminated by a single vertical light. The roof was invisible high above them. It looked as if they were at the bottom of an elevator shaft. He clumsily pulled himself to a sitting position.

"What the hell happened?" John said.

"No idea".

Memories were slowly falling back into place. One of the first to return was of Rodney putting his foot in it. "You called them genocidal arms dealers!" He did remember that.

Even in the dim light, Rodney's flush was visible. Obviously he remembered it too. "It was true."

"Despite that, it really wasn't the most helpful thing to say."

In the gloom, Rodney's shoulder slumped. "I am aware of that, Colonel."

John had expected an argument. "Well," he said, and then stumbled on, "Well, don't do it again."

That got the expected rise; "Oh, ok, try not to open my mouth and say the first thing that comes into my head. That shouldn't be too difficult because I'm known for my tact. Ask any of my staff. Ask Zelenka, and he'll tell you, 'Yes, Rodney always thinks before he speaks.' Me, the paragon of diplomacy…"

John interrupted. "Alright! It was a stupid thing to suggest."

"I'm glad you realize that, because short of a gag…"

"You've made your point, Rodney."

"Good." He looked around the darkened room. "So, where has my mouth got us this time?" he asked glumly.

"From what I can see, it's the same design as the rooms above," John said even as he struggled to his feet. He finally noticed the long length of rope at his feet, with a loop tied beneath his arms. Rodney had already clambered out of his. "So, what do you remember?" he asked as he stepped out of it.

Rodney shrugged. "The computer and finding that virus on the screen. Then my uncharacteristic bout of honesty. There was that smell and…" his hands moved involuntarily to his throat. "My god, they gassed us didn't they?" He stared at John with a terrified expression.

John couldn't offer any reassurance. "Yeah, that's what I remember, too."

"Maybe it wasn't gas. Maybe they used one of those viral things they were developing. Didn't they say there was cross contamination between groups of humans? Maybe they wanted to check it out? The tests on the village weren't enough and they're sending us down here to be human guinea pigs in some a viral test. I think I feel hot…"

"Rodney, Rodney." John waved a hand in front of the scientist's face. "Rodney!"

"What did Carson say? Muscle aches, cough," he gave a half-hearted cough. "I think I'm coming down with something. Didn't I say that I catch cold like that?" He snapped his fingers weakly, then "And as if that's not good enough, we're trapped at the bottom of an elevator shaft in a maze of tunnels, with walls that are way too close and..."

"Rodney," John interrupted. He entertained the thought of the black eye he had considered back in quarantine on Atlantis. "How do we get out of here?"

"Yes, yes," Rodney snapped. "Distracting me is a good technique in sanitized infirmaries, Sheppard. But it works better if I'm not trapped in a claustrophobic nightmare at the bottom of a maze of tunnels…"

John looked around and considered their surroundings. The narrow walls rose up to dizzying heights. In front of them was an opening into a corridor that quickly faded to darkness beyond the reach of the dim light.

"You know," John said in his most thoughtful voice. "I'm not sure that this is actually a tunnel."

"And what else would it be? It's dark. We were lowered in here with ropes. I can hear water dripping." He counted each point off on his fingers. "Not to mention, of course, we got in here through a hole in a mountain."

"It was more like a hill." John said. "A grassy hill."

"And your point?" Rodney demanded. He had both fists on his hips, but his breathing had slowed.

"These walls don't look like anything natural." John said as he indicated the recesses and smooth curves.

"And non-natural things can still be tunnels. I seem to remember a special hatred of subways."

"But there's something familiar about it, isn't there?" John suggested, with the merest hint of a smile. He knew Rodney wouldn't have seen it.

There had been far fewer decorations in the firing range, and without the garish tapestries and portraits, the original architecture was more obvious. Firing weapons with 'Arthur', John had at last realized the reason the place had felt so familiar. He wasn't surprised that Rodney hadn't seen it though. Rodney was damn good at seeing the trees. He saw more trees than anyone else John had ever met. He did, however, sometimes forget to step back and see the Amazon Rainforest in front of his face.

Rodney glanced around the little space they found themselves in. John smiled at the rapid scan of the smooth walls and the doorway that opened up to the left. "Now that you mention it, there's something familiar about those ladder things…" He gestured at the towel racks.

John hated to deprive anyone of their 'eureka' moment. He leaned back against the wall and waited. He was aware he was grinning.

"It looks like…" Rodney paused. He glanced around one more time, "the _Aurora_?" he said incredulously.

"This whole place is very like the _Aurora_, don't you think?"

John watched the wheels ticking away.

"We're on-board a downed Ancient ship?" Rodney whispered in awe.

"Sure, they've had a lot of redecorating done."

Rodney clicked his tongue, but continued excitedly. "So their experimentation room is the main hanger. And the antechamber we entered the hill by would be the port airlock. And that ghastly place with all those wall hangings would be Corridor 7, past the crew quarters and the mess."

"You remember all that from the Aurora schematics?"

Rodney tapped his head. "Photographic memory," he said with a grin of renewed cockiness. "And it would explain why we couldn't scan the interior with the Jumper's sensors. The hull would protect against simple scans."

John grinned back at the much calmer Rodney. He clocked another point for distraction techniques.

"So, memory man, how do we get out?"

"How many floors have we come?"

John looked up the lift shaft. It was impossible to judge the distance. "I don't know," he said as he gazed up and tried to identify any landmarks. "I can't see a thing up there, but there must have been a hatch or something to lower us down…"

"Thirty meters."

"What?"

"Thirty meters, or ninety-eight feet in America." Rodney looked slightly bemused by the interest. He held the rope in both hands.

"I know what thirty meters is. How did you know?" Sheppard said, gesturing up at the shaft.

Rodney's grinned despite the situation. "No matter what you may believe about the Canadian school system, we are still taught the archaic art of translating into your outdated Imperial system." He passed the rope from one hand to the other.

Sheppard suspected McKay had deliberately misunderstood his question, but let it go. He knew he was in for a few conversations like this as a reward for recognising this was an _Aurora_-class ship before Rodney had.

"You measured the rope."

Rodney nodded. "Figures they would have to cut it when we were down here and they were up there. Thirty meters."

"Ninety-eight feet."

"So, how does knowing that help?"

"It doesn't, really."

"Why not?"

"Because we can't climb that," Rodney waved a hand up the shaft, "so we have to go that way." He did not look happy at the prospect of entering the 'tunnel' at all. "There should be a couple of exits to the exterior further along."

John had to admit he wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of marching through the dark bowels of an Ancient ship either, but they didn't have much choice.

"Please tell me you still have that flashlight clipped on your belt," John said hopefully.

No such luck, of course. They rummaged through their pockets, and weren't surprised to come up empty. No weapons, no flashlight, not even a power bar. The scanner was nowhere to be found. John remembered seeing it on the table in the research area and guessed that by now it was being plundered for spare parts.

The only item the Traders had missed was the life signs detector, stashed neatly in an inside pocket of Rodney's vest. Rodney handed it over without comment; John nearly always got a better reception on the thing. It glowed with a faint green light from two steady life signs; otherwise, the immediate surroundings were clear. Along with the two coils of rope, it was a meager inventory.

John gazed once last time up the empty shaft, then said, "Lead on McKay."

"You have the life signs detector. And at the moment that's the nearest thing we have to a light. Therefore, you first." Rodney shooed Sheppard on his way. "Pitter patter, Colonel."

John sighed and took point.

His first step over the threshold placed him knee deep in water that hadn't been visible from the bottom of the shaft. He gasped and leaned backwards.

"What is it?" Rodney demanded nervously, as he collided with Sheppard's shoulder.

John suppressed the urge to say something dramatic, settling instead for the obvious. "There's a lot of water."

"Oh great," Rodney muttered. "I'm trapped in the depths of an Ancient ship, in the dark, by a group of genocidal arms dealers and you make my day so much better by telling me I've got to get wet."

"Unless you want to stay here."

Rodney muttered something under his breath. John decided he was better off not knowing.

He stepped fully into the cool water. Rodney splashed after him.

John illuminated a section of the wall with the life sign detector. There was the same fine grain that he recognized from the _Aurora_. The water reflected the light from the life signs detector into the near-total darkness.

There was something unsettling about this place, John thought. More than he would have expected. A vague worry chilled him. He felt like he'd been here before, and it wasn't a pleasant memory.

"Is there a reason we're waiting here?" Rodney asked.

John shrugged to try to shake off his disquiet. "I thought you could use information to get your bearings."

"I know where we are, Colonel."

"Sure, at the bottom of an Ancient starship…"

"Corridor 15, mid-stern elevator shaft."

John stared.

"Come on. There's an airlock on the far side of the engine room."

Looking smug, Rodney took the lead.

Damn, John was going to pay for making Rodney guess about the true nature of this place.

When he caught up, John said, "I was going to ask how you do that, but I've decided I'd rather keep the mystery."

"It's the only shaft…"

"Mystery, Rodney. If you want to be a miracle worker, you've got to keep the mystery."

They splashed on.

-

"So, Rodney," John asked eventually. "What do you suppose happened here?"

Rodney shrugged. "I'd guess the ship was either parked here by the Atlanteans, or crashed."

"I can't see why they'd park it here."

"No. They probably crashed, then moved in with the locals."

"Or the locals wiped them out."

Rodney frowned at John. "Well, whatever, I imagine that the Traders relocated here pretty soon after. Some of them would have to have the ATA gene, at least in the beginning, to get this stuff working. And the shielding means that the Wraith can't find them, so they don't have the same perpetual Dark Age as the other folks we've met. They can keep their research from generation to generation, and tinker with enough Ancient tech to teach themselves how to keep this place running."

"Then, of course," John said, "it's only a matter of time before you branch out into weapons manufacture and the destruction of your relatives."

Rodney shrugged.

"Although that doesn't explain the water," John said.

It was no deeper, and had remained cool. The splashing meant they couldn't be stealthy, but it also meant that no one would be able to creep up on them. No one could walk through knee-deep water quietly.

"I'd guess," Rodney said, "there's a breach in the hull somewhere that's letting in an underground river and this place is filling up like a dam."

"Maybe one day drowning our kind hosts," John said hopefully.

Rodney glanced at the wall. "I don't think so. See, the water line used to be here." He pointed out a faint line a couple of inches above the current water level.

"So the water's draining out somewhere," John guessed.

"Yeah," Rodney mused. "Or it's being taken off."

John wasn't sure why Rodney looked disconcerted by either prospect, but his brows were knitted in thought.

"Spill it, Rodney."

McKay shrugged. "I don't know. Come on. The engine room is just along here."

-

After walking for several minutes, John was about to ask if Rodney was _sure_ that they had come the right way when he spotted writing on the wall. John couldn't read it, but he knew Rodney could.

"So," John prompted.

Rodney answered with a flourish. "Engine room."

"You know, we could go exploring."

Rodney glared at him. "You cannot be serious?"

"We may never get another look at an _Aurora_ class-ship, Rodney," John said seriously.

A tirade trembled on the scientist's lips, probably concerning irresponsible and frivolous colonels. He closed his mouth abruptly and stared at John suspiciously. "You _are_ joking, right?" he asked tentatively.

"Maybe. A little. But let's just get out of here and back home." He lifted up one soggy boot in emphasis.

"So, if this place was dry, you'd go explore?" Rodney asked in exasperation.

"Obviously." Sheppard smiled.

"Liar."

"And you, Dr. McKay will never know. Let's get out of this dump."

Rodney indicated the next corridor as the one they wanted. They rounded the corner, where a bulkhead unexpectedly halted their progress.


	11. Chapter 10

A/N Thank you for the reviews, again! They are wonderful, and terribly exciting.

Ellex and ga unicorn (who has a new story out - _Resources_, that everyone should go read) found and fixed so many problems with this one! Without them, I swear it would just be gibberish.

So, on with the fun...

* * *

Chapter 10 

"Great," John said as he gazed at the bulkhead barring their way. "No way through there."

"Well, maybe," Rodney said thoughtfully. He splashed towards a control panel just above the water level. "These bulkheads were designed like fire-doors. They close if the atmosphere decompresses, to protect the inhabited areas. But the control systemscan be disengaged if there's enough power."

He slipped his fingers into the slits on the bottom and top of the panel, and cracked it off. Inside, a set of crystals glowed.

"That's good, then?" John asked.

"Well, it is if we want to go that way. Now let me have a look at this…"

The glow from the crystals meant that John and the life signs detector were not needed to light the area. He wandered the perimeter of the room to occupy himself as Rodney worked. A vertical strip-light ran from roof to floor, but it remained dark.

Otherwise the room was as empty as the corridor they had walked through. The ubiquitous drip of water was louder here.

He returned to peer at the panel again. Rodney had removed a couple of the crystals. They lay in the water, while those remaining glowed brighter.

"Ok, that's as good as it's going to get," Rodney said. He tidied some of the wires absently. "The good news is that there's enough power to get the bulkhead open."

"And the bad news?"

"It means disrupting the power across the deck." He frowned seriously.

"And that's a bad idea because...?" John prompted.

"Well, it's a lot of power, and it needs to go somewhere," Rodney explained in his talking-to-military-personnel-about-science-voice. "If I calibrate the flow manually, then it should be diverted into the circuitry. But you should get our of the way."

"Why?"

"Because if the power can't go into the circuitry it'll have to go somewhere else. Into the room, probably. And if you're not standing at my shoulder, only one of us is in danger."

Automatically, John said, "Then tell me how to do it, and I'll calibrate it."

Rodney frowned. "Do you have time for a degree course in Ancient technology, Colonel? I've got loads of time, but if we want to get out of here sometime within the next four years, I'll do it," he said as he continued to fiddle at the wires. John stayed where he was. "Thanks, anyway. It'll probably be ok."

"Probably?"

Rodney looked up from the control panel. "Definitely. It'll definitely be ok," but he sounded as if he was trying to persuade himself.

"Rodney..."

He snapped angrily, "For god's sake, Sheppard, just get out of the way before I change my mind."

John thought about arguing, and then changed his mind in the face of Rodney's irritation. "So, I'll just go and stand over here." He waded through the water towards the wall. "Only so I'm out of your way, you understand."

"Yes, yes," Rodney mumbled. "Make sure you're up against the wall."

As John tried to lean nonchalantly against the wall, he wondered what odds Rodney would give on this working. He seemed worried.

"What happens if this doesn't work?" John asked.

"It will," Rodney said.

He muttered as he worked. Looking at the tense muscles of his back, John could imagine the quick, intelligent fingers.

The bulkhead slid open an inch, and then stalled. Rodney continued to mutter.

This continued without change for almost a minute. The bulkhead remained motionless. John was about to move back, when Rodney clicked his finger and pointed. "Stay," he warned.

"I'm staying," John answered. _Did the man have eyes in the back of his head_?

The light from the control panel flickered.

Rodney swore, and if anything, worked faster.

Damn, it, John thought, but he wasn't going to stand back here…

He was about to step down when the power surge came. There was a tremendous smell of ozone, and the air crackled. The console flickered brightly, then went dark.

Rodney had time to swear once more, before the power arced.

Then darkness, and John heard the splash of a body hitting the water.

-

The after-image of the power was burned on John's retinas. He could still see it caught in that final moment. It seemed to take an age for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.

The only light was the faint green glow of the life signs detector from where he had dropped it in the water. It looked like a movie special effect.

John stepped away from the wall, and he was struck by the awful sensation that this had happened before. He remembered it. He would find Rodney and he would be…

There was a still form, lying in the water at the other side of the room.

Dread filled him. It took all of his willpower to take those few steps, to put out his hand out and to turn the body over…

…and instead of the dead body he was expecting, he was rewarded by choking and spluttering.

John sank weakly to his knees.He took a breath that he hadn't realised he was holding as he helped the struggling scientist to sit up in the water. Rodney leaned forward onto his knees and coughed up lungfuls of the clear water.

Johnsupported his shoulder as the coughing rattled his bones.

"What the hell was that?" John muttered. "That was some light show. I mean, real impressive, but I quite liked the little glow from the control panel."

Rodney took a gulp of air to reply, but instead the coughing got worse.

"And as much as I appreciate getting to witness these catastrophic examples of Rodney McKay's fallibility, I really would rather not. I'm not a sit-on-the-sidelines kind of person. I'm better at the action stuff, so you'll have to curb the hero business." He was aware he was babbling, but he let the words continue as he patted the other man's back.

The coughing slowly came under control as Rodney gasped for air.

"And you didn't even manage to get the door open." John gestured at the closed bulkhead. "Not unless we want to try squeezing through an inch-wide opening. I know you've been working out, but I think an inch might be pushing it. It's not that I'm not…"

Rodney manageda word at last: "Try."

Content that Rodney was able to support his own weight now, John stood and gave the bulkhead a shove. It slid open. The scientist looked as smug as someone wet and breathless could manage.

"I knew it Sheppard," he muttered crossly as soon as he had enough breath. "As soon as you said there was water, I knew I was going to end up completely soaked. I just didn't think I was going to have to swallow most of it, too." He spat out another mouthful for good measure.

John smiled to himself. "So, what did you do?" he asked. He knew he wouldn't understand the explanation but for those few moments he had been convinced Rodney was dead. John needed the reassurance of hearing the scientist's voice.

"Well, when we were on the _Aurora_…" Rodney started in a hoarse whisper, and launched into an intricate description of bypassing this and re-directing that. His voice gradually recovered as he talked.

John let him continue for a minute or so, before interrupting. "So you risked your hide on a half-assed theory based on an hour inside the _Aurora _computer simulation?"

"Of course not," Rodney said guiltily. "It was nearer forty-five minutes. But," he added hastily, "it worked didn't it?"

"And how sure were you that it would?" John demanded.

"I was sure it was going to open the door."

"And what about blowing up in your face?"

Rodney looked at the smoking control panel. "Fairly likely," he shrugged. "This was one of the better outcomes."

John didn't answer. He wanted to say _I thought you were dead_, but held back.

"Hey, all I got was a ducking," Rodney said cheerfully. "At least you didn't have to do mouth-to-mouth."

"Perish the thought," John muttered in reply. "Come on."

John helped Rodney up to stand, and led the way through the open bulkhead. They were back to the gloom of the life sign detector's light.

"So, GPS-man, where are we now?"

"There should be a T-junction up ahead," Rodney answered just as the corridor split into two. "The rear entrance to the engine room is that one," he waved to the right. "I'd like to see inside there."

"Focus, McKay. We need to get out."

"I'm aware of that, but didn't you say you wanted to explore earlier?"

"No. I asked if _you_ wanted to, and you said no. Right now, all I want to do is find my Jumper and fly back home and find a dry pair of socks…"

"Have a warm shower…"

"Yes. Which direction?"

"The closest airlock on this level is along there," Rodney indicated the corridor on their left.

"I sense a but."

"But, there are another couple of bulkhead doors like that one."

John said very firmly. "We are not doing that again."

"_I _have no intention of doing that again," Rodney emphasised, "but the control systems have no power now. So, if they're closed, it's simple mechanics to get them open."

John still didn't like the thought of taking on another bulkhead. He hadn't recovered from the last one yet. "And the alternative?"

"There's an emergency hatch in the back of engine room. It was probably used for lockdown events so that they could still get to the engines via an EVA."

"Any bulkhead doors that way?"

Rodney concentrated on his hands and whispered a reply. "No, but it's a dark tunnel, about two hundred meters long and only a meter wide. That's a long, dark, narrow place."

He didn't say anymore. John felt, rather than saw him shudder. Rodney was terrified at the prospect of that tunnel.

"Ok, we'll try left."

Rodney nodded. Even in the gloom it was impossible to mistake the look of relief on his face.

They walked in silence through the dark passageways. John kept an eye on the walls for some sense of what had occurred on this ship, but except for the lack of light and the water they were walking through, there was no indication of calamity. The walls were smooth, and there was no sign of damage.

Rodney turned into a new corridor.

John resisted the urge for the moment to ask _Are we there yet?_ Instead he commented, "Their guns handled beautifully."

"I'm sure the Genii agree."

"When did they come into it?"

Rodney shrugged, "Who else do you think buys their stuff? They only have one ship left, but I bet they still manage to supply all the petty tyrants of the Pegasus galaxy. And now they have the Jumper..."

"Not for long, if I have anything to do with it," John said darkly.

They stopped at the next bulkhead. Without saying anything more, Rodney opened the control panel. The crystals remained dark this time, so John brought the life signs detector closer.

Rodney whistled tunelessly under his breath.

John inspected the innards of wires and crystals over Rodney's shoulder. He seemed to pull a couple at random. Nothing happened, but he stood, nodding.

"Ok," he said.

"And?"

"Try it." Rodney waved at the bulkhead.

Gingerly, John reached out gave it a gentle push. Wheels and mechanism grated together and the door slid on its runners.

"I disrupted the power on the entire deck," Rodney sounded pleased with himself.

John looked around as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Can the Traders tell what we've done?"

"Probably," Rodney answered quietly.

"So they know we're trying to escape."

"And they're letting us," Rodney said. He rubbed his chest absently, as though the coughing had hurt his ribs.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 

The final bulkhead posed no more of a challenge than the previous one. Rodney removed the requisite crystals and it slid open with a gentle shove. The new corridor was identical to the one they currently stood in; knee high water and no lights as far as they could see.

Rodney was strangely silent as they made their way into the new passageway. John didn't speak either; he worried about Teyla, Ronon and Carson in the village and he worried that the rescue, when it arrived from Atlantis, wouldn't be prepared for the fire-power the Traders were capable of bringing to bear.

Elizabeth would not be pleased with the many ways the mission to this planet had gone wrong; a man-made plague, galactic arms dealers who included bioweapons as part of their inventory, and an Ancient Starship they would not be able to study. Rodney would be particularly disappointed about the last.

Speaking of Rodney…

John realized that the only sounds he could hear were his own splashing footfalls.

"Rodney?" He turned and saw the bedraggled figure some way behind. He showed no sign of hearing Sheppard, and continued trudging along until he was halted by John's hand on his arm.

"Earth to Rodney," John said as he steadied the other man. He waved hand in front of the scientist's face.

It was knocked away irritably. "You're not on Earth."

"Don't I know it?" John answered. "How much further is it to the airlock?"

Rodney glanced around vaguely. "Did we pass anything?"

John shook his head. The corridor was featureless.

"I thought we'd come further," Rodney said distractedly as he looked at the walls for some indication of where they were.

"We would have, if you'd kept up."

"Well, excuse me for not being my usual athletic self, but I'm wet, cold and hungry," Rodney said crossly, with a spark of the normal energy.

"It's not that cold."

"You obviously haven't been submerged recently then. It's freezing."

"That settles it," John said in concern. "We need to find somewhere to rest up."

Rodney didn't argue. "There should be technical areas up ahead."

They walked on. A couple of small storerooms opened up to their right, then a closed door on the left with Ancient text in the center. John looked at Rodney for a translation.

"Communications room," was the muttered answer to the unspoken question.

Sheppard pushed it open. The faint glow of the life signs detector illuminated darkened consoles lining the walls. There were a variety of abandoned items, mostly small pieces of Ancient tech that Sheppard didn't recognize. A large table in the center of the room caught his eye, an island in the still water.

"Come on," Sheppard said. He climbed onto the table, and then gave McKay a hand up.

Rodney's hands were freezing and he was shivering as he clambered up. Once on the flat surface, he sat heavily. He wrapped his arms around drawn up legs and rested his head wearily on his knees.

"Get your jacket off," John said, slightly sharper than he had intended.

Rodney looked up blearily, and then complied without argument.

"Now the sweater."

John had to help peel the wet clothes off. Rodney complained that his fingers were numb.

John took off his own drier jacket and sweater. "Do you have any idea how many women would sell their grandmothers to watch us do this?" he said light-heartedly.

Rodney eyes were dark holes in a pale face, but he managed a slight smile. "I think," he said through chattering teeth, "that Atlantis' grandmothers are safe for the moment."

John thrust his clothes into Rodney's hands, who looked argumentative, but the shivering precluded much conversation. John helped pull the dry sweater over the scientist's head, and then draped the jacket over his shoulders.

Despite Rodney's shivering, John found the ambient temperature comfortable enough to leave the soaking sweater and jacket on the table. He sat in just his T-shirt and watched the miserable form at his side.

"Carson will have called for Lorne and another Jumper when we didn't report in," Sheppard said.

"Great, just what we need. Hop-along and his merry men," Rodney muttered.

John smiled. "You're mixing metaphors, Rodney."

McKay ignored him, "Although maybe Biro will have given him a crutch he can use to beat up those Traders. A couple of strikes with a drone would be better, but I don't know if the Trader's have drones to fire back. If they do, here's hoping they shoot worse than Carson. Because I'm not sure Hop-along would be able to duck as fast as you. Except there's no sign of that kind of weaponry in the room we were in…"

"Rodney, you're not making sense."

Rodney paused and glanced across the table. "What?"

John shook his head. "McKay, stop talking. Have a rest."

He tried not to be too concerned that Rodney did as he was told. Of course, the muttering continued the whole time as he curled up, but the words were lost.

John spared the shivering form one more glance before taking up sentry on the door.

He was facing the wrong direction to see the row of the darkened consoles flicker from black to grey as though they noted the new presences in their room.

-

SGA

-

"There has been no word," Teyla said from her position at the radio.

Carson and Ronon had just returned from a look at the gate.

Carson had asked to see the destruction, and now he was sorry he had suggested it. There wasn't just a little bit of damage to the DHD that McKay could have fished around in its innards to repair. No, the innards were part of the soot stains on the nearby houses.

"The DHD is still destroyed," Ronon said simply. He hadn't approved of the visit.

Carson took a deep breath. He hated waiting around and certainly hated waiting for other people to save his ass, but there seemed to be no alternative. He started tidying away reagents. None of the treatments he had brought from Atlantis had shown any effect on the virus. He suspected it didn't respond because it was engineered with human DNA. With the lab on Atlantis he was sure he could come up with something, but that wasn't one of his options at the moment.

Teyla interrupted his thoughts. "Doctor, I would like to see the Sacred Site. Perhaps there is information to be gained from investigating source of the contaminated water."

He nodded. He gave her a couple of sample containers and some swabs. She nodded in thanks, and Carson wondered if she was using this as an excuse to get out of the overcrowded room. The smells were overwhelming.

She had been gone ten minutes, and he had almost completely cleared the table when someone clapped their hands at the door of the hall. The murmur of conversation faded away, and every person in the room turned towards the entrance. Everyone except Ronon, who continued to doze propped against the wall. All he needed was a cowboy hat tipped down over his eyes to complete the picture.

The focus of the attention was Rina. She entered beneath the woolen drape, wearing what Carson reckoned to be ceremonial robes. She was followed by another person veiled in dark cotton to obscure their face.

_Oh, bugger_, Carson thought.

"Dr. Beckett," she said formally and bowed low to the floor.

Carson stuttered some kind of reply. He was sure there was a properly worded response, and that "Err, ahhh, hi Rina," wasn't it.

She didn't seem at all put out, and continued. "It is the request of the Council that you attend a ceremony of thanks. We have discussed and agreed on recompense for your assistance."

Carson knew he was stuttering again. He fiddled nervously with the eye cap for the microscope. "That's not necessary," he said. He glanced back at Ronon, and the bugger was smiling with his eyes closed, pretending to sleep.

"We believe that it is. We have given the matter some thought, and we have decided on payment for your services. There is a cave we would like to show you. You may find something within that may be of benefit."

There was a sudden swell of conversation. Those who were well enough all had to share this development with their neighbors.

It seemed, Caron thought, close to near panic, to be a big deal _Oh dear_. He kicked Ronon on the shin. "My friend and I will be happy to attend," he said with a smile that he hoped wasn't too forced.

Ronon muttered, "Someone should stay and listen for the radio."

Rina nodded. "Tobin will do this for you," she indicated the veiled figure behind her, who nodded. "I have instructed him to interrupt the ceremony if there is any word from your friends. The ceremony is short. Only a few minutes."

Carson offered Ronon a friendly hand up but the former Runner stood up on his own.

Rina looked pleased. "And the young lady?" she asked, looking around for Teyla.

"She's gone to the Sacred Site," Ronon said. His tone made it quite clear that he wished he had gone instead.

"That is a shame," Rina sighed. "It is in the other direction. Well, come, come." She waved them out of the hall in front of her.

There was no escape. Carson looked back longingly at the few remaining pieces of apparatus on the table, and then his view was obscured by a small crowd who followed, chattering noisily.

The village looked much the same as it had on their arrival. It smelled the way Carson had imagined it would; thick smells of wood-smoke and close habitation. The ground was dry and scattered clothing fluttered in doorways. Now, however, there were a few children running about. Their calls and shouts echoed between the houses. It was strange how much hope those simple voices brought. It changed the nature of the place. There was less fear about Reliquary now. Carson lifted his head a little higher.

As they walked with the gathered crowd chattering behind them, Ronon muttered, "I'm no good at these religious things."

Carson nodded in agreement, but even the impending ceremony could not dent his hope. "Don't look at me," he replied. "I peed on the minister at my christening."

Ronon looked as if he was going to ask for an explanation, and Carson was preparing to tell the story of that first religious faux pas, when Rina raised a hand.

They had arrived at a clearing at the boundary of the village. The beginnings of a dense forest stretched out in front of them. The procession stopped behind them at a respectful distance, and only two of the assembled villagers stepped up with Carson and Ronon.

A hush descended. Even the nearby children's voices were stilled.

Rina began proclaiming towards the trees. "In the ways that have been passed to us from ancestors immemorial, we give thanks and payment to those who provide for us. In these dark days, you have given us the friendship of these people and they have provided succor. We present them to you now."

The assemblage murmured, "We give thanks."

Rina turned to Carson. "We must go to into the cave." She indicated a darkened area between the trees. He hadn't even realized it was anything more than a space between the trunks. The body of the cave was obscured by branches.

Carson couldn't help himself. "Why?"

Rina looked at the young men who had joined them. Her expression indicated that it should be obvious. "This is the Relic-Cave. You are to choose something from within as payment."

It was impossible to see inside, or gain any sense of the interior. "There are relics in there?" Carson asked.

She nodded. "They are all that we have left of the ancestors. They stayed on this planet during their last great war. Many of their artifacts are scattered through the villages, but we have the largest collection." She smiled. "Why do you think we named our village Reliquary?"

Carson didn't like to reply that he had thought they just liked the name.

He had a moment's indecision. He didn't want a relic. Where on earth would he put it? But there was another thing his Gran used to say: that it is gracious to accept a kind offer when it is given. And he didn't wish to insult the Padanarams.

"We have never revealed the relics to strangers before," Rina said. "My grandfather told me that we didn't even tell the gods when they walked among us. He thought they would have plundered them. I am concerned that is why they visited this plague upon us."

Carson wondered if he should tell her his suspicions about these 'gods', but she was still speaking.

"We have preserved the relics for thousands of years, and gathered those that came to us. We have decided to gift you one, as you offered us help without hope of reward. That is a noble cause."

He was intrigued, despite himself, as to what could be in the cave. Ronon, on the other hand, did not look impressed. He scowled.

"Come," Rina said and led the way.

Ronon followed her, indicating to Carson that he should stay. "Wait until I give the all-clear."

Carson nodded in agreement and watched as Ronon followed the elderly woman. The former Runner's hand floated around the stunner in its holster.

Rina swept back the branches so that the doorway was revealed. The darkness inside was absolute, and Carson strained to see inside as Rina entered, followed by Ronon. Beckett thought the entrance looked vaguely familiar, then the branches fell back over it again. The two men who had separated from the crowd began unwrapping torches.

From inside the darkness, came the gentle sound of

Rina singing.

Ronon called, "Seems safe," His voice echoed in the enclosed space.

Carson glanced at the torch bearers. They appeared to be in no hurry to go into the cave. Perhaps he needed to go in without the light first.

He glanced, once, back towards the village and the stargate and home. Then, with Ronon's "Seems safe," echoing in his ears, he walked up to the cave to get a look at these relics.

He took a step past the branches to stand in the entrance.

And as he did so, the interior of the cave flickered, then suddenly blazed with light.

Rina stopped singing, and the villagers gasped.

So it obviously wasn't _meant _to light up.

It had been a few months since Carson had stepped up to something and had it burst to life in his face. He had learned to be very cautious of things that did.

He glanced around the interior in bemusement.

He thought he heard weeping.

Ronon on the other hand was laughing. He thumped Carson on the shoulder and a grin split his face. "You did it, Doc!" he said.

Carson didn't understand. Rina was kneeling at the front of the cave and crying openly.

"Did what?" he muttered crossly. Then he looked behind her to something dreadfully familiar. "Oh, bloody hell…" he breathed.

The cave wasn't just a holding place for the Ancient's relics. It was a relic. _The _relic.

A Puddle Jumper!


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 

"I've tried to make it work," Carson said and slammed a hand on the console in irritation. It continued to glow in blissful ignorance. "Have I never mentioned that this is McKay's game? I break this kind of stuff."

"It's already broken," Ronon said helpfully. "Now you have to fix it."

"Oh, yeah, easy peasy. You are aware," Carson turned away from the blinking console to stare at the Runner, "that I'm a doctor, not an engineer?"

"It turned on for you."

"And that's an entirely different thing from making it fly, open a stargate and brew a bloody cup of coffee."

"I do not want a cup of coffee."

Carson hissed between his teeth and refrained from describing the bodily injury he would do for just one cup right now. Black, straight off the boil.

"And I do not know how to make it work," Carson said in his calmest 'dealing with angry relatives voice'. "Rodney's your guy for machines. I just do the soft squidgy stuff," he said in utter despair.

"You have the gene."

_Didn't the man understand? _"That's not the same as knowing how to make it work," Carson said in exasperation. He tugged off the control panel under the merrily blinking console and looked at the mess of gadgetry inside. He felt the same way he had when the guy in the showroom had cracked the hood to try and impress him with the inner workings of an SUV. Give him a nice and simple laparotomy any day.

Dust fell from the open panel. "It's ten thousand years old anyway and covered in trees and dirt." Although that wasn't quite true anymore; the villagers had begun stripping away the overgrowth when it became clear that the visitors would like to take the Relic-Cave itself as payment.

Ronon said, "Dr. McKay would have fixed it by now."

"Oh, and why don't you just go and get him, then?" Carson snapped. Unfortunately Ronon did not seem inclined to oblige.

_This was more frustrating than having no Jumper at all_, Carson thought. It was like being a teenager and finding your folks have left you the car but taken the keys.

He hit the console one more time for good measure. It didn't make him feel better this time either.

Teyla rushed in the Jumper, finally returned from inspecting the water source. The door was gone, so spaceflight was outside this Jumper's capabilities. Of course, anything besides lighting up was beyond it's capability at the moment.

"A Jumper," Teyla said and her face broke into a grin.

Carson hated to see anyone brought down to earth as brutally as he was about to do but he saw no other choice. "Don't get your hopes up. I don't think the thing can fly."

Rina had followed Teyla inside. "Fly?" she said in a squeak.

"Dr. McKay…" Teyla began, but Carson cut her off.

"Rodney is the damned expert. I'm just a doctor. I don't know anything about these things. You've seen me fly."

Teyla nodded.

"We don't need it to fly," Ronon said. "All we need is the DHD to open the Stargate."

Carson stared at the DHD in horror; he couldn't even program his Gran's video recorder. He tried to think it on.

The DHD remained dark.

"You have to dial," Ronon said.

"Why do _I_ have to dial?"

Ronon didn't get a chance to answer. Teyla sighed and strode forward. Rina tried to stop her, but was too slow.

_Bang, bang, bang_… Teyla hit the Atlantis sequence.

The console remained dark.

"Perhaps we are too far away," she said.

"Well, unless you can do anything about moving this thing, we're back where we started from," Carson said angrily.

"McKay would have…" Ronon started, and Teyla hit him on the shoulder.

"Well, if you can just tell him that I'd really appreciate his help right… What the hell?" Carson stared at a new symbol on the HUD above the console. He recognized it as the Ancient equivalent of the Windows egg timer.

Ronon lifted his hands away from the equipment. "I didn't do anything."

Carson watched the timer in fascination. He didn't sense anything wrong, but obviously something he had said, or thought, had been enough to trigger a process.

"Should we leave?" Teyla asked nervously. She obviously expected a self destruct sequence.

The timer stopped and a message in Ancient appeared. Teyla had the PDA with the translation matrix.

It read 'Subject Found - Connection Made.'

SGA

John hadn't meant to doze off, but he was awakened by a chirrup accompanied by a flashing, white light that appeared quite insistent. He checked on Rodney first; still curled on his side and sleeping despite the interruption. John slipped off the table top into the water. The source of the noise was at the bottom of a mound of abandoned equipment. It was a small, circular piece of ceramic, with a blinking light on one side and what appeared to be an impression of an ear molded into the other.

Gingerly, he lifted it to the side of his head and heard a familiar voice say, "…don't know what that means."

He fitted it over his ear. It was a whole lot more comfortable than the headsets he was used to at home.Its light went dark.

"It does not look dangerous," Teyla was saying.

"Perhaps…" Ronon said.

John tried the obvious. "Hi, guys," he said.

"Colonel Sheppard!"

"John!"

"Sheppard!"

John smiled to himself. "It's nice to hear from you. How's things?"

Ronon and Teyla started talking together. Overlaid was a sigh of relief that sounded a lot like Carson.

"One at a time would be good," John suggested.

There was a pause on the other side, then Teyla said, "Colonel Sheppard, we have a problem."

John looked across at Rodney, who shifted restlessly in his sleep, and then gazed out into the darkness and the still water at the legs of their table.

"That's funny," Sheppard said. "I was about to say the same thing."

"Why?" Carson demanded. "What's happened?"

"Plenty of things, but I asked first," he said. "Please tell me there's a team on its way from Atlantis."

There was a pause on the other side, and he imagined the sharing of significant glances. "We are unable to contact them," Teyla said at length.

"Why not?"

"Well, the DHD was destroyed…"

"It was shot at and vaporized," Ronon clarified

"…by a cloaked ship," she finished.

Sheppard didn't think the Traders could have adapted to the Atlantis Jumper so quickly, so he suspected it was their own ship.

"Atlantis is not due to check in with us for another five hours, and we are unable to gate back," she continued

"So we may have to wait for a cavalry rescue, then.How about the Padanarams?" Sheppard asked

Carson answered. "I isolated the viral agent and it's man-made…"

"Let me guess," John interrupted. He quoted the sales pitch as he remembered it. "A water based viral agent synthesized from the local DNA, using a technique described by Tobiass in the Ancient database."

"I knew the first bit, but that technique sounds like an interesting lead. How on earth did you find all that out?"

"That's my story. I'll tell you in a sec. How did you manage to contact us now?"

"Well, that's the last part." Carson said. "We found a Jumper in the village, and it decided to contact you itself."

"You found a working Jumper!" John's mind started running with possibilities.

"Working is an optimistic term," Ronon said.

"We wondered if Dr. McKay would be able to help us to get it flying again." Teyla said quickly, at her most diplomatic.

Carson obviously realized that he hadn't heard from Rodney. "Where is McKay? Is he alright?"

"Sure," John said more confidently than he felt. He reached out to shake the sleeping form awake. Rodney batted his hand away with a moan. "Of course, we have been gassed and dropped into the darkened bowels of the _Aurora's_ sister ship. And what with the enclosed dark space and being hit by a power surge and the dunking in the water that's everywhere, Rodney's doing just fine. Aren't you, Rodney?" John nudged him harder.

Rodney started awake. He opened his eyes and immediately began coughing. They were deep coughs that shook his whole body and echoed against the walls.

John helped him sit, all the while ignoring the demands for more information from the Jumper. He held Rodney's shoulders as he coughed and gasped for breath.

It settled slowly. Eventually Rodney caught his breath, once, twice before his body was wracked with a lesser bout. John patted his back gently. Carson finally stopped yelling into the radio.

The coughing finally eased and Rodney was left wheezing quietly.

In John's ear, Carson said. "I need to know about the dunking, lad."

"Well, it did follow the whole power surge thing, but…"

"What is the water like?"

John replied, although he couldn't understand the importance of the question. "Clear, from what I can see of it, it's pretty dark down here. It's about knee high everywhere we've been on this deck."

The color was fading from Rodney's face and now that the coughing had stopped the shivering was getting worse.

Carson's tone was urgent. "John, this is important. Have either of you swallowed the water, or inhaled it?"

"Rodney coughed up gallons earlier."

"And you?"

"Not deliberately. What are you getting at?"

Carson sighed. "I don't think we can afford to wait for the cavalry." He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "The virus we found is delivered in water. The Padanarams were given barrels of the stuff by their 'gods'."

"Who probably fly cloaked ships," Ronon added.

John had a sinking feeling; he was glad that Rodney couldn't hear this.

"We guess that the people who manufactured it have been shipping it out to test at the villages, and that would require large quantities of water to be inoculated. It's a self replicating viral code that only needs the presence of a few basic compounds to affect a large volume. The people who made it…"

"They call themselves Traders."

"…would be much safer letting it seed a reservoir and siphoning off what they need." Carson's voice was serious. John had learned to dread that particular tone.

"You found an answer though?" John said. He avoided saying the word cure, so as not to panic Rodney.

"No. The severity of infection is related to the viral load. The bigger the exposure, the worse it is. You need to get out of there."

"We're working on it."

It was obvious then why the Traders seemingly had no interest in their captives. Dead up there or down here, it was all the same to the Traders. And they had his Jumper. Now that they had destroyed the DHD they would think they had cut off the medical team too. The Traders would think the team from Atlantis had been incapacitated.

Well, they were wrong. He would have to show them not to mess with his team.

Rodney's breathing had settled enough that he could ask, "What did you and Carson want?"

He held his hand out for the Ancient device and snapped his fingers

John handed it over. McKay didn't even examine it before fitting it to his ear.

Only one side of the conversation was audible as Rodney answered Carson's questions.

"I just fell in the water. Mind you, there was a massive power surge at the time." And then, "Getting a door open. It's a long story."

John was aware that the imperious sentences were far shorter than normal. Rodney was finishing one and taking in a wheezing breath before attempting the next.

"Well, it is a bit cold in here," he continued. "My clothes are soaking from sitting in a damned lake."

"You're wearing my jacket," John reminded him.

"Yes, and it's still soaking."

He was terribly pale as he handed the device back to John. "Mother Hen wants to talk to you."

Carson was talking even before John had raised the thing to his ear. "…get out of there, fast." He sounded agitated. "You need to get back to Atlantis."

"First of all you need to get that Jumper flying."

Rodney had been staring at the tabletop, but his head jerked up. "A Jumper? You didn't mention a Jumper."

"You were sleeping when we talked about it," John said, then brought Rodney up to speed on the 'relic.'

Carson said impatiently in his ear, "We can get it working once you're out of that place. Rodney can tell us how to get it working, but you need to get out of there now."

John explained for the doctor's benefit.

"We can't wait outside too long. We need you to come pick us up. The Traders may have life signs detectors as well as our Jumper and too many guns. And," he swallowed, hoping Carson would understand what he was trying to say, "we need to do it while we're safe, and while we still can."

Carson didn't reply, which John hoped signaled understanding. They needed to do this while Rodney could still form a complete sentence. If his breathing got any worse…

Sheppard handed the device over before Rodney could snap his fingers again.

"Right," McKay said. "Do we have anything to drink? Because I think I aggravated my throat. That water looks lovely, but you've had your boots in it."

John shook his head. "You play nice with Carson. Get his Jumper working."

"And what will you be doing?

John had a couple of thoughts on this subject. "I want to go check out the airlock."

"Off you go, then. It isn't far. I'll wait for you here." Rodney should have been terrified at the prospect of being left alone. Instead, he waved John away. "You'll need this," the scientist added, and handed over the life sign detector.

John held their light source in shock. Rodney was oblivious. "Go," he said again, distractedly.

"I won't be long."

"You'd better not be."

"I'll only be ten minutes," John said. The scientist was already lost in explaining the workings of the Jumper in sentences that were still too short.

Sheppard paused at the doorway. He was torn. He didn't want to drag McKay through the ship if he was getting sick (even if he didn't seem to notice), but he didn't want to leave him on his own, either. It would have been easier, Sheppard thought, if he didn't feel like he was breaking Rule Number Three, and the first lesson you learned from horror movies – _Never split up_.

SGA

When Carson had been a teenager, he'd had a bout of tonsillitis that drove his temperature up to delirious heights. He _remembered _the whole conversation he'd had with his Gran at the time. It had started with buying orange juice at the supermarket, and ended with him convinced that his best friend's dog had climbed a tree.

She told the story at parties. Carson reckoned if they got out of this, he was going to have a few stories that would rival hers. Rodney had better watch out.

In itself it wasn't a terribly unusual McKay conversation; Carson was left floundering in the wake of a commentary that was going too fast for mere humans to keep up with. It was the topics that were bizarre. He'd already reined Rodney in from the dizzying heights of alternative medicine; fuzzy-fuzzy science, the perils of EVA, the correct way to brush a cat and the pretty neighbor who was looking after it, and if she had fleas – the cat, not the neighbor, of course, but humans can be bothered with fleas if they….

And so on.

Carson acted as translator for Ronon and Teyla who did what they thought Rodney meant. Despite the increasingly delirious rambling, there were enough instructions for them to reroute the propulsion systems to the backup power source.

Twice, Carson was left helpless as another bout of coughing interrupted the instructions. There was nothing he could do but say quietly, "Hold on Rodney, we're coming."

The third coughing fit was followed by a long silence.

"Rodney!" Carson almost yelled.

"Hmm?"

"Come on, Rodney, we're nearly finished. Just a little longer. We've got the heads up. You were telling me about initializing the power source."

"'m Tired, Carson."

"I know. Just keep talking. What do we do now?"

"We…" he paused, and then said in a terrified whisper, "What's that?"

"What, Rodney?" Carson said. Teyla looked up from the display she was trying to decipher. Ronon continued to work beneath the console.

"That noise."

Carson instinctively looked out the newly cleared windscreen to remind himself that he wasn't in the dark, alone.

"It is Colonel Sheppard," Teyla said with utmost confidence.

The only noise from the radio was quick wheezing breaths.

Carson said "Rodney, it's John. He's coming back. You need to calm down." It made no difference.

Ronon snapped from under the console "McKay. Stop it."

The wheezing slowed.

The next sound on the radio was the far away voice of Colonel Sheppard.

"Rodney! Hey, it's me," he said and all three people in the Jumper breathed a sigh of relief. "I leave you for five minutes and I come back and find you in a panic. Take a breath, Rodney."

The coughing started again.

Carson sat heavily on the pilot's chair. He could hear exhaustion in the strangled breaths and he could imagine all too clearly the congestion in the lungs.

"Carson!" Sheppard said loudly. He must have taken back the radio. "The villagers didn't get sick as quick as this. They said it took a day!" He sounded as close to panic as John Sheppard ever got.

"They were exposed by drinking the water. It's going to be faster if there's direct exposure to the lungs," Carson answered quietly.

"I think the Jumper will fly now," Ronon said.

"Well, that's the next problem," Sheppard said. "The airlock we were heading for is buried under the hill. Unless anybody has a really big shovel, we're not getting out that way."

"We'll come in and get you," Ronon said.

Teyla nodded.

"No, you will not," Sheppard said. "These are arms traders with more guns than the Wraith have enemies. There's another way out. You concentrate on getting here. Rodney and I will find a way out ourselves."

Ronon and Teyla looked ready to disagree.

Carson headed them off. "Let's just get there first, before we promise not to go blowing these buggers to hell." After all, there was still the flying to be done.

"Understood. Do you need any more advice on the Jumper? Because I think you tired Rodney out." The words were light-hearted, but John couldn't hide his concern that Rodney had stopped contributing to the conversation.

"We're ready here," Ronon said.

"Colonel, we will be limited for speed," Teyla added. "This Jumper has no rear hatch."

"Well, ASAP would be good. Speak to you soon. Sheppard out."

A small figure came rushing up to the Jumper. Carson hardly recognized Levin after a rest and clean clothes. He looked like little boys the universe over. "Are you really going to make the relic fly?" he asked excitedly.

Carson smiled despite himself, and sat in the pilot's chair.

"Aye, lad," he said. "We bloody well are."


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 

Sheppard placed the Ancient radio into an empty pocket. The light had gone off, so he couldn't even use it as a flashlight.

He wanted to investigate the collection of Ancient technology, but he paused to appraise Rodney one more time. The scientist was dozing again, his head propped on his forearms. His breathing was quieter, and slower now that the excitement had passed.

Reassured that Rodney was resting quietly, Sheppard turned toward the equipment. There a couple dozen items scattered haphazardly amongst the consoles. He prayed for a missile launcher.

No such luck. None of the pieces were familiar, but he assumed they were simple scanners and communications equipment. He tried each one, hoping for a response to the ATA gene, but they all remained dark. There was nothing similar to the radio, and certainly nothing that looked like a weapon.

He sighed. It seemed safe to assume the Ancients didn't normally store their weapons or flashlights in piles of junk in communication rooms. Without Rodney to guide him, John collected the most likely looking objects and stuffed them into his pockets. If all else failed he could throw them.

He didn't want to wake McKay. Dozing quietly this way, one could almost assume that there was nothing wrong with him.

"Rodney," he whispered, then louder. "Rodney."

There was no reply.

"McKay!" John reached out and shook the scientist's shoulder.

Rodney started awake and stared out of feverish eyes. At least this time the coughing did not start up again.

"Carson?"

John tried to smile lightly. "He's on a different continent, but promises he's on his way."

Rodney nodded once. "A Jumper?"

"He's flying it, would you believe?"

Rodney pulled himself along the tabletop with assistance, but jerked his feet back as they touched the water. "Wet."

"It's one of this place's many attractions."

The scientist cringed, and shivered. "Don't like it wet."

"No, me neither. We should get out of here."

Rodney's first couple of steps were cautious, as though he was just teaching his legs to walk. The shivering didn't help; it was constant now and shook his entire body.

Together, with John's hand tucked under his elbow, they made their way out of the little refuge. The green glow of the life signs detector lit their way.

At the doorway, John glanced longingly towards the right and the airlock they had been heading towards. It was only another five minutes down the corridor, but a tumble of rocks and soil blocked the exit. He hadn't been surprised. This ship was, after all, buried beneath a hill.

So there was only one choice left. He and Rodney would have to attempt the EVA tunnel. That was a part of the plan he had been careful not to share with Carson. The doctor was worried enough without knowing that they were going to have to climb a 200 meter tunnel when Rodney was barely managing to walk.

Sheppard expected an argument when he turned left towards the engine room. But Rodney didn't comment. He gazed blankly into the water, and had surrendered himself to John's directions.

They stumbled along in silence.

The place seemed to have closed in about them, but Sheppard knew it was just his imagination. The corridors _looked_ the same; the walls remained blank, but it was the water that unsettled him. He would have found it easier to accept the danger if it had been filthy, or floating with scum, but instead it looked like clear tap water. Added to that was the danger from the Traders above. It was enough to put John's teeth on edge.

It was obvious now just how far they had walked through the ship earlier. John wondered if they had in fact walked the entire distance of the hill underground. It would have felt like an achievement if they weren't now retracing their steps.

At last the silence got to be too much. John began filling in the Rodney McKay commentary himself. Although if anyone asked, he would deny doing any such thing.

"I know we've been this way already, but the other airlock was buried, so I guess we're stuck with the EVA tunnel," John said. "Maybe we'll get to see a little bit of how this place was meant to look before it became a giant plague-ridden reservoir."

Rodney didn't respond, but continued with the onerous task of placing one foot in front of the other.

"And once we get out of here, I'm looking forward to coming back with one of those Genii nukes and blowing these Traders to smithereens. After a warm shower and a dry pair of socks."

Rodney might have nodded, it was difficult to tell.

-

Sheppard was talking, but the words made no sense to Rodney. The damned man was gibbering. At least when Rodney had something to say he said it in proper words and not the incomprehensible monologue that John was spouting at the moment.

And why couldn't they get the lights turned on in here? The system wasn't a tricky one. Even Kavanaugh could manage to…

Except, some part of Rodney's mind reminded him, he wasn't on Atlantis. He wasn't entirely sure where he was. But Sheppard was there, which was good. Otherwise who knew what kind of trouble he could get into on his own?

-

John had stopped paying attention to what he was actually saying. He said whatever came into his mind. He touched on diverse subjects including childhood summers sailing paper boats, to the prospect of surfing on one of those perfect little beaches the Atlantis team had found a few miles from the Athosian settlements.

He was aware of a common thread in his topics. Everything seemed to be about water.

They continued walking and John continued to talk. He sensed that some part of Rodney was listening and maybe even using the words as an anchor.

They had gone as far back as the second bulkhead when Rodney's knees buckled and they ended up face down in the water. John recovered first, and pulled himself up to his hands and knees. He spat to clear his mouth and throat of water as he helped Rodney to sit up.

Sheppard's heart sank lower when Rodney started coughing again. He took up the position that had become terribly familiar these past hours, a hand on the scientist's shoulder, offering support through the wrenching spasms.

This time they didn't last half as long as it had in the communication room.

The cough settled, and Rodney wiped his hand across his mouth. There was blood there. He stared at Sheppard with fever bright eyes.

"Sick," he said.

John pulled himself around so that he faced the scientist. He had expected terror, but saw only resignation and exhaustion. "Looks like it."

"Same as the village?"

"Carson thinks so."

"Yeah." Rodney nodded tiredly, and gazed off into the distance. "Told you. I catch colds like that."

It was frightening to have a conversation like this with Rodney. The sentences were bare and short. He hadn't said twenty words since they had left the communication room. To Sheppard, this was reason to worry; panicking Rodney was bad enough, silent Rodney was worse.

"Come, on. Let's go home."

John hauled McKay to his feet again, where he wavered and had to balance himself with a hand on the wall. He was a shivering wreck, without the strength to look up.

John pulled Rodney's arm over his shoulder, and half carried the man further down the corridor.

They made slow progress through the darkness. John continued to talk about whatever entered his mind, partly to keep his own mind awake, as well as to stop himself thinking about what else could go wrong.

When they reached the T-junction that led to the engine room, John paused for a moment to catch his own breath, but didn't dare relinquish his supporting position.

Rodney was awake, and still managing to stumble along, but the sudden stop was too much for his compromised equilibrium. John didn't have the energy to resist as the scientist slipped forward onto his knees again.

They needed a break. Actually, John reconsidered, he needed a break; Rodney needed a bed in the infirmary for a week, and some of Carson's medicine. Sheppard gave himself two minutes to recover his energy, and then pulled Rodney, who swayed alarmingly, up again.

"Not long now," Sheppard said as he resumed his previous position at Rodney's side. He kept the life signs detector out in front to illuminate what it could of the darkness.

The entrance to the engine room was not far down the right hand branch of the T-junction.

He remembered from the _Aurora_ that the engine room was immense, bigger than the research area the Traders had shown them. But in the poor light, he could only gain a vague sense of its dimensions. There was equipment scattered here and there, and groups of consoles around structures that reached to the roof.

If Rodney had been well, no amount of water could have stilled his excitement over this room.

"Rodney," John said hoarsely, his throat felt sore after the exertion.

McKay mumbled something unintelligible.

"Hey, look, an engine room. Full of Ancient toys."

Sheppard smiled as Rodney actually cracked his eyes open and managed to lift his head. "'s dark," he croaked.

"Yeah, been dark here a long time."

"Not there."

John looked at what McKay was staring at and agreed that that corner of the room was brighter.

He had worried about how he would find the EVA tunnel in this enormous room, and instead he found it advertising itself by letting in light from the outside world.

He picked out a route through the abandoned equipment towards a set of consoles. It wasn't the consoles he was interested in, but the high-backed chairs in front of them. He needed a seat.

He deposited Rodney in the nearest chair and sat himself down as well, taking a moment to catch his breath. He fished the radio out of his pocket. It remained dark, but he raised it hopefully to his ear.

"Sheppard to Teyla," he said.

He wasn't surprised that it remained quiet, given his luck today. Despite the disappointment, he tucked it back in his pocket where it clinked with the other items of his stash.

"Interference," Rodney whispered with his eyes closed and head resting against the back of the chair. Even in the dim light, it was obvious that his pallor had gone past pale into grey. The shivering had stopped, and the coughing had not recurred since the bulkhead. John did not find either fact as reassuring as it might have been. He knew vaguely that both symptoms were part of the body's defenses, and their absence could mean things were improving, or getting worse.

Suddenly, Rodney opened his eyes urgently. He glared at John, and his eyes were full of typical irritation.

"Tunnel," he managed to say.

"It's the only way. There's light down there."

"No." McKay said, and then gathered another breath. "Can't"

John shook his head. He guessed where this was going, but he chose to misunderstand. "I know it's dark and narrow, but it's got to be better than in here."

If it were possible, Rodney looked angrier. "You. Go," he managed.

"Sorry McKay, because I've got my own issues with cramped tunnels, and I'm sure as hell not going to leave you down here…"

Gently, the scientist's eyes dropped shut.

"Rodney," John said, and shook a shoulder roughly. "Rodney. Stay with me."

Without opening his eyes, Rodney whispered, "You. Go," one more time.

There could be no more waiting. John sensed he was running out of time.

He ignored his own protesting muscles as he pulled an unresisting Rodney up to a standing position

"Come on, let's go meet the flying Scotsman. Provided he's managed to get the Jumper in the air."

Sheppard didn't have to support all Rodney's weight. Somehow, despite being semi-conscious, Rodney managed to follow John's lead.

Half-carrying his burden, John walked towards the light. He fitted the life-signs detector safely away in his pocket so he could use both hands as support.

They managed a few stumbling steps this way before John started coughing. He almost let go of Rodney in shock, but somehow managed to ease him down gently. The water seemed to rouse the scientist slightly, or maybe it was the sound of someone else trying to cough up their lungs that had him looking terrified.

The coughing fit didn't last long. John gathered up Rodney and they carried on. Sheppard pushed his difficulty breathing to the back of his mind; he had other things to worry about now.

The engine felt impossibly long, but he knew it couldn't have been more than about 300 meters. Each step was a trial, and he knew that compared to the tunnel, this was going to be the easy part. He shivered involuntarily.

Oh, god, they were in serious trouble.

-

Rodney kept putting one foot in front of the other, and again, and again, and again.

The darkness pulled in closer. Breathing wasn't important, he wasn't afraid for himself anymore.

But he didn't want to leave Sheppard on his own, so he kept struggling against the darkness, until he couldn't fight anymore.

-

There was no warning. One moment Rodney was at least keeping some semblance of remaining upright, the next he was a dead weight. It was enough to send John stumbling into the water again.

John wanted to yell. God damn it, this was getting repetitive. He was really pissed off now. All they had wanted was to discuss trading opportunities.

He growled, and with a burst of energy generated from anger, he pulled Rodney up into a fireman's carry and continued walking.

At the base of the EVA tunnel, John placed his unconscious burden on a raised platform. He checked Rodney's pulse; it was too fast and weak, and the breathing too shallow.

John looked up to the next obstacle, a two hundred meter long tunnel. With daylight at the end. There was a ladder flush against the wall.

It would be tricky enough alone, but he could not leave Rodney again.

Sheppard tied the rope as security around both of their waists, and hoisted Rodney back onto his shoulder.

Once he had recovered his balance and distributed the weight evenly (and, hell, but Rodney was heavy), he looked around the engine room one last time.

"You are going to be sorry you slept through this, McKay," John said, and turned towards the EVA tunnel.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 

Carson piloted the Jumper distractedly. He directed the ship automatically, while his thoughts were focused on what they were flying out to meet on the island.

If he had been paying attention, he would have realized that he had never flown like this before. The Jumper responded eagerly to his commands. It flew arrow straight. The heads-up display answered his thoughts with alacrity, the way the Atlantis Jumpers only did when he didn't want them to. He found the speed in kilometers and an automatic weather correction. There was even a little counter that indicated time since power-up. But despite repeated attempts, they could not raise Sheppard on the radio again.

Nevertheless, Carson might have been thrilled about the sudden improvement in his piloting abilities, if he hadn't been so preoccupied. He didn't even notice the dead and dying villages as they sped past.

Teyla and Ronon were silent, as if he was under a spell they didn't want to break.

-

Beckett was not surprised to find the co-ordinates that the Traders had provided were next to a hill. From above, and knowing what they were actually looking at, it was obvious that the long axis of the hill was the shape of a huge spaceship like the Aurora. The nose had plowed into the earth, while the stern had evolved into a grassy cliff. There was a small stand of trees around the mid-point.

The life signs indicator was on the heads up display before he even realized he was thinking about it. There were two life signs among the trees. The sensors identified a tunnel in that location as well. But he filed the information away as the display highlighted something far more concerning.

A group of six life signs were emerging from the hill not far from the trees.

The display zoomed to a magnified view at Carson's unconscious bidding.

"Those look like the people," Ronon growled, pointing out guns and other armament that would have complemented a group of twenty. "Put me down and I'll…"

Carson interrupted. "I have a better idea."

The display shifted to make room for a new set of data. Columns of tactical information that he didn't understand flickered on-screen, and was ignored. He felt instinctively for the system he wanted, and it leapt to life at his touch. There was a grating as millennia old engineering shunted into position.

The figures on the ground looked up. One raised its hand, while a couple brought guns to bear.

"Doctor," Teyla hissed.

There was no need for her warning. He was committed now. He powered up the weapons and did not need the display to tell him that systems responded willingly. The visual shifted to a targeting schematic, centered on the Traders.

With the images from Reliquary fresh in his mind, Carson fired.

Perhaps some day he'd feel guilty, but he thought that would be a long time in the future. Now, the events in the village were far too clear. He could still hear the dying gasps of the little blond boy echoing in his ears, and he could feel the helplessness as Ronon carried another body to the makeshift grave.

This wasn't revenge, though. He was protecting his own. He would not let them endanger his people anymore.

There was a flare on the HUD as the drone hit. He flicked the display away before it settled. He didn't care if they were dead, but they were out of his way.

He released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Dr. Beckett," Teyla said urgently. "There is something wrong with one of the life signs at the Colonel's position."

_Oh, bugger._

Carson brought the Jumper smoothly down towards the stand of trees. About eight feet from the ground, Ronon, then Teyla, leapt from the back of the Jumper.

The craft seemed to take an age to finally touch down, despite Carson's impatience. By the time it did, Ronon was already waiting. He stepped into the Jumper and laid his unconscious burden on the floor. There was no ceremony, but the former Runner touched Rodney's shoulder with a strange gentleness before he went to help Teyla with Sheppard.

Carson slipped easily into the motions of his life. Airway, breathing, circulation…

-

SGA

-

Sheppard was jolted awake as Rodney shifted. He had a hazy recollection of a ladder that wouldn't form into a coherent memory, but he knew that McKay was in no fit state to be moving anywhere. Then he realized it wasn't Rodney moving on his own, but someone else lifting him. For gods sake, couldn't they just leave them alone?

He struggled to wake, to fight them off, but someone was urging him to be calm.

Eventually he realized it was Teyla, but it took even longer to understand what she was saying. "Colonel Sheppard. Let Ronon take him. It will be alright now."

He cracked open an eye to see a blurred shape silhouetted by the sun. "Hi, Teyla," he said. He was surprised at how rough his voice sounded.

She moved away from the light and smiled at him. She looked good. "Do you think you can walk?" she asked. "I'm sure they will be keen to get home."

He nodded, and she helped him to his feet. He paused for a second or two to let the world stopped spinning, thankful he didn't start coughing.

The first couple of steps felt as if the ground was unsteady, but, with an arm to hold onto, he managed to stay on his feet. "Rodney?" he asked.

"Dr. Beckett will be looking after him." She glanced anxiously over her shoulder. "We should leave."

John had never heard truer words spoken.

He didn't lean on her too much, but she kept a firm hold on his elbow. With every step his legs seemed more under his control. The fuzziness in his head remained, but at least he was awake.

Ronon appeared at his left side. "Hi, Ronon," John said.

The former Runner did not answer, but frowned. He slipped his large hand under Sheppard's other elbow and fell into step.

The new Jumper came into view. Beckett was crouched in the back. John concentrated on the ship itself because he didn't want to see who the doctor was working on. The Jumper was wide open at the back, and there were still branches protruding from gaps. A number of relics dangled on strings from the roof and walls. The display was powered down, but the controls looked wonderfully familiar. A pilot and a co-pilot's seat at the front, and a further four behind them towards the back of the Jumper where…

"Teyla, I need your help," Beckett called out urgently.

She let go of Sheppard's elbow, and left the two men standing at the entrance.

Inevitably, John's eye was drawn to Carson.

It looked like magic. He was working out of the portable med-kit and asked Teyla for medicines like calling out incantations. There was already a bag of clear fluid running into an IV. Rodney lay unnaturally still on a woven mat with an oxygen mask obscuring his face.

Carson asked for another medicine with an impossibly long name, and Teyla handed over a vial. He drew it up into a syringe.

As he emptied it into a cannula, Beckett glanced up and saw John. In the second that their eyes met, Sheppard knew he had been triaged into '_able to wait for medical attention for another five minutes while the urgent problems are dealt with_.'

Carson did manage to spare him a, "Sit down before you fall down, Sheppard."

John tried to smile reassuringly, but suspected he failed badly. It didn't matter, however, as Beckett was already looking back to his patient.

Sheppard slipped past and sank into the pilot's seat. It was habit now. Ronon followed him, dropping into the co-pilot's chair.

In the back, Carson muttered, "Damn, Rodney," as he listened to the scientist's lungs with a stethoscope.

John spun his chair. He called on the heads-up and found the display responsive. The sensors did not show any life signs.

"Can you work in a draft?" John asked.

"You cannae fly."

"We need to go home." He didn't have the energy for a more flippant reply.

He didn't wait for an answer. It didn't come; something happened with McKay, and Beckett cursed. John imagined it wasn't good.

Rodney couldn't afford to wait.

The engines burst to life at his thought and the Jumper rose effortlessly off the ground. There was a catch in the power relay, but she accelerated sweetly. It was probably feverish thinking, but he imagined her waiting ten thousand years for someone to bring her out to fly. She was like an eager puppy. No wonder Beckett had been able to fly her.

"Damn it," Carson said behind him. "I'm going to have to intubate. Give me that bag. And tie that stuff down."

John ignored the conversation and concentrated on flying.

The fresh greens of the island's flat plain were quickly gone. The view changed to choppy blue water.

"Come on, McKay," Carson muttered.

John didn't want to listen. He rubbed his aching ribs.

Ronon reminded him, "You're flying too high, Sheppard."

The Jumper's altitude was getting close to the maximum for a non-pressurized ship. John brought her back to a safe height.

They were about an hour from the 'gate. He kept data flashing on the heads-up so that he wouldn't be tempted to turn and watch what was happening in the rear of the Jumper. The view from the front did not change from endless ocean. John thought he might have seen enough water to last him a lifetime.

There was still no sign of land when Carson said urgently, "If there's any more speed in this thing…"

John glanced behind him just once. He couldn't help himself. Beckett was kneeling beside Rodney. And Rodney…

John's feverish eye caught an impression of too much equipment. There was a large tube in McKay's mouth and the thin plastic IV lines in his hands. A set of wires connected the EKG to the emergency kit.

Sheppard turned back to the windscreen. "Hold on," he said, and nudged the Jumper to greater speed. The wind whipped his hair. Various relics were blown out the door and lost to the waves, but it didn't sound like anything important. Teyla must have managed to secure the three occupants and the doctor's equipment safely.

The Jumper thrilled to the movement. John found himself thinking that she would benefit from one of Zelenka's tune ups. He was doing a nice little business in the mechanical repairs of the Jumpers. Maybe he could open his own little garage…

"Sheppard," Ronon said. "Fly straight."

John brought his brain back to the present, and sighed. He was exhausted. He was cold and shivering. And now his thoughts were wandering. He wanted to curl up to sleep for days somewhere. He felt uncomfortably close to panic. Rodney had been all right a few hours ago and now Carson was saying things like 'intubate.'

And John knew that whatever had hold of McKay was getting a hold of him, too.

The extra speed made talking difficult because of the turbulence, but it did cool the dry heat in his skin.

The continent appeared first as a ribbon on the horizon, and then it expanded to cliffs and coastline. John aimed for the landmass and pushed the Jumper as fast as the occupants could withstand.

Ronon reminded John to fly straight or lower or both with a gentle hand on his arm. The former Runner didn't speak; there was no point. More importantly, he didn't question John's ability to keep them in the air.

John was aware of Carson working in the rear of the Jumper. He couldn't let his thoughts dwell there, but he knew they might already be too late.

-

Rodney was losing the battle, and all Carson could do now was watch. He had thought the battle was lost the moment the life sign started flickering as they were landing by the hill, but somehow the scientist was still alive. Every medical instinct Carson possessed said that McKay should already be dead.

Only his professionalism stopped him yelling in frustration. This was his friend and he couldn't watch him succumb the same way as the children in the village. Beckett willed each breath and each peak in the sats monitor as he worked. They kept coming.

He regretted complaining, on many occasions, about Rodney's stubbornness. Right now, it was the only thing keeping the man alive.

-

John may have dozed off or faded out, because when Ronon said, "That's it," and pointed down to a village, he felt himself jerk back to alertness.

At first John could see nothing different between this village and any of the others. Then he saw the Stargate, and knew they were almost home. He brought the jumper down to an approach vector, and began to dial.

That was when they were fired upon. He guessed it was the Trader's only ship. Maybe they were waiting in ambush, or just happened to be here; John didn't care. He was furious. _Who the hell did they think they were?_ _Sitting_ _there like a spider in a web!_ Well, he would show them what happened when you messed with his team. He had promised he would.

He left the address half dialed and brought the Jumper around. "Hold on," he warned.

The other craft was invisible, but 10,000 year old algorithms leapt to life at Sheppard's request. They projected a course based on where the shots had originated. He fired at the projected location.

Four of his six shots connected with something, in a flare of sparks.

He shifted their Jumper before the other craft could return fire. When it did, only one shot of their barrage connected. It was enough to force the occupants of the Jumper grab handholds.

Carson yelled something but Sheppard was beyond listening now. Everything ceased to exist except his Jumper, and the craft that threatened them.

Details scrolled on the heads-up, identifying a problem in the other ship's cloak. There was an energy leak that the Jumper could track. A glassy representation of the other ship appeared on the display.

John directed all drones to its position. Every single shot was a direct hit. The Trader's cloak flickered, and the ship, which looked like a modified Jumper, appeared in the previously empty sky. Sparks and flashes coursed across its hull. It did not fire again, but hung motionless in the air as John watched in fascination.

Slowly the sparks intensified across the port hull. The craft began to lose altitude and developed a spin. As the flares of energy across the hull intensified, its descent hastened, until it tumbled towards the ground like a stone.

It looked as though it might crash into the village, but, at long last, it seemed as if someone was looking out for the Padanarams. A gust of wind seemed to catch the burning ship and pushed the wreckage towards a field of crops. Flames engulfed the craft and smoke billowed into the air; there would be no survivors for the villagers to worry about.

John looked at the wreck in a daze. It felt like an anti-climax.

Ronon finished dialing Atlantis, and Sheppard directed them towards home. The Stargate flared to life.

Despite being a foreign Jumper, it listened to the same Atlantis protocol that slowed its progress and brought it gliding to a halt in the control room. The familiar walls and the stairs surrounded them.

For two seconds there was silence.

Then Carson was speaking, but John couldn't find the energy to try to understand. He couldn't even tell if the Doctor was pleased or worried.

Then all hell broke loose. Now there was too much noise and too many people shouting. It assaulted John's ears. He put his head down on his arms.

The world darkened and he met it with relief.


	16. Chapter 15

A/N There, nearly finished. I almost kept to the 15 chapters, but I just couldn't resist an epilogue of sorts, so shall we say 15 and a half?

Again, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far. It means so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you. And Ellex and GA Unicorn (have you read _Resources_ yet?)repaired all the holes and imperfections. Any that are left are mine alone.

In a final note, there is no relation between this story and the published SGA book Reliquary by Martha Wells. None whatsoever. I just liked the name, before the official version came out. I bet I had more fun writing this too, thanks to you guys.

* * *

Chapter 15

He is dreaming…

-

It is almost totally dark, and he is climbing a ladder. It is slick and damp when he puts his hand out to grab a rung, and his foot slips as he places it on the next step. He catches himself, and hooks his arms around the ladder to keep himself from falling.

His chest is sore and he has to gasp for air. His shins are bruised from slipping so many times. His vision has long since faded to a grey haze. The left arm feels all right, but he has long since lost feeling in the right. His fingers are cold.

He has been climbing for an age. One step after the next, after the next. There is an end, but he cannot see it. He remembers that he has to climb, so he does.

There is something heavy dragging at his shoulders. It would be easier to climb without the burden, and he prepares to let it drop. It is only when his hand meets burning skin that he remembers.

And for an instant he thinks he is too late, and he has let Rodney fall…

- 

John Sheppard woke in a frenzy. The ladder. He had been climbing a ladder, and Rodney fell...

He opened his eyes, and was assaulted by bright lights. People were talking, something beeped and an alarm screeched. Something was covering his nose and mouth, and a tangle of wires and tubes tying him down. A weight seemed to be pressing him into the bed.

He struggled.

"Colonel Sheppard," a woman said. Who? He didn't know. "John, it is all right. You are back on Atlantis."

The words didn't make any sense. What the hell were they talking about? They didn't understand, he had to go back and get Rodney, and they needed to get out of here before…

"Doctor!" the woman called.

He heard a clattering noise, but couldn't see anything past the glare of the lights. He needed that thing off his face!

Someone restrained his hand in a terrifying, firm grip. He fought against it, but was too late. Something cool tracked up his arm.

Instantly, the agitation faded. He knew that something terrible was happening, but now his muscles wouldn't respond. His eyes were heavy, and they drooped closed.

As soon as the light was gone, he felt the calm spread.

It was easier to hear the voices now. They were familiar and reassuring. He couldn't make sense of what they said, but he felt the words were important so he concentrated with all his fading energy.

"It is bad," said a far away voice. It sounded nervous and out of place here, and quiet, as though it was in the corner of the room.

"Aye," was the reply. This sounded closer, and weary.

"I do not understand how I can help."

The nearer voice sighed. "I don't know, Radek, but I'm trying everything I know here. Nothing I tried on the planet… oh, bugger it. McKay!" There was movement again, and the voice faded to a different area of the room, saying "Turn up the pressure, and get an inotrope on board, or his heart's going to…" The words vanished into incomprehensibility. There were the sounds of frantic activity elsewhere.

John felt a warm hand in his. He could feel the bright lights on his face, but he kept his eyes closed. The panic had almost disappeared.

Over the background activity, the first man from earlier spoke. "It does not look good."

The woman answered, "Dr. Beckett was going to ask if you had ever read anything about this in the database."

"Medical research is not my field. I am scientist. I would not know where to look."

"Colonel Sheppard told us that the people on the planet used something in their database to make a DNA virus. He said it was developed with a technique described by Tobiass in the Ancient database."

The words were beginning to sound far away, and John fought to stay and listen. This was important.

"Tobiass," the man's voice repeated.

"You have heard of it?"

"No, but I was working on Rodney's ideas for search algorithm for database, and I think I can search for authors of reports now…"

John couldn't fight it anymore. The voices faded into the darkness.

- 

He didn't want to wake up, but something was gently tugging at his consciousness. The first thing he became aware of was a familiar noise. His mind supplied the name. Carson Beckett.

The doctor was whistling tunelessly as he worked.

Hesitantly, John cracked an eye open. The glare had subsided, and the room was gently lit by a desk lamp.

Carson was injecting something into one of the IVs.

"Hi," John whispered. His throat hurt.

Beckett looked up from the injection, and smiled wearily. He looked exhausted, with deep shadows under his eyes. "Good evening, Colonel. How do you feel?"

Sheppard didn't answer. He guessed it was probably obvious. He didn't remember why he was here, but he knew the memories would come back. They always did.

"Rodney? I let him…"

Carson's smile faded a little. "Don't worry. We got to you in time. Zelenka's foray into medical science was pretty close to finding a needle in haystack, but he did it, and I'm sure Rodney will be fine. He's in the ICU at the moment, so you can't see him, but I'm going to check on him after you."

"He didn't fall?"

Carson shook his head and dragged a chair to the bedside. He sank into it so they were at equal height. "So that's what you were dreaming about, lad," he said quietly, and placed a tired hand on John's shoulder. "You did it. I've no idea how, but you managed it. With lungs full of crap, and a fever of 104. You're going to have to go some to beat that performance."

John nodded. Already he felt his eyes dropping closed.

"Go back to sleep," Beckett said, and John, never one to disobey doctor's orders, gave up and slipped back under.

- 

Someone was clattering around the infirmary. There were muttered curses from across the room, and someone yelped. From around the room came the sound of a dozen different voices saying 'shh'.

It was too late. John was awake now. He cracked his eyes open and was greeted with sunlight streaming in a window. He couldn't see what had caused the disturbance from where he lay, but he was aware of a gentle hand resting on his. The hand's owner said, "Hello."

He didn't have the energy yet to turn to the source of the voice, but he recognized it. "Teyla?" He was surprised how rough his voice sounded.

"How do you feel?" she asked as she placed a sliver of ice on his lips. His mouth accepted the moisture readily.

He thought about saying 'ok', but his throat hurt, and his head throbbed and his muscles ached. He compromised with, "Better."

He shifted his head slowly to gain a better perspective. Teyla sat at the side of the bed in Carson's seat from last night. She didn't seem too badly affected considering their adventures. She was as beautiful as always, and smiling calmly.

Behind her, Ronon lounged on one of the plastic infirmary chairs. His chin was on his chest and rattling snores filled the room. Obviously whatever had disturbed the peace of the infirmary wasn't loud enough to wake him.

Seventy-five percent of the team accounted for. "Rodney?" he asked.

Teyla's smile broadened and she nodded towards the bed on the opposite side. She adjusted the plastic tubing for the oxygen as he turned onto his other side.

Rodney lay on the next bed. He was pale, and too still. There was an oxygen mask on his face and his eyes were closed. He was connected up to various monitors with undulating lines and flashing numbers. Clear fluids ran into drips on both wrists. John ignored it all, and concentrated on the rise and fall of the chest with each breath.

Carson spoke from desk behind Rodney's bed. "He'll be all right. Give him a couple of days, and he'll be driving me to murder to get out of here." The doctor still looked tired, but it wasn't the bone-weary exhaustion of last night.

John let his eyes drift from where Rodney lay, to the source of the disturbance under Beckett's care.

Major Lorne was leaning against one of the examination couches. He had his weight on his left foot, the right raised off the ground to take the weight off the plaster cast up to his knee.

"Hello, sir," he said guiltily, his face flushed.

"Major," Sheppard said. He took in the injured ankle, as well as the incipient embarrassment. "Report."

"I… well… I…" Lorne stumbled to start, then swallowed and started again. He stood straighter, but still did not put any weight on the injured leg. Carson muttered something indecipherable under his breath from the desk. "I led a group of Marines to go retake the Jumper that was left with the Traders."

John couldn't help it. He yawned. Carson noticed, and snapped tetchily, "Make it quick, before the Colonel falls asleep. Get to the good bits."

Lorne seemed to take the advice to heart, or he was just a little nervous of Dr. Beckett at the moment. "We met almost no resistance, sir. Those who did come out were inept. They had a lot of weapons, sure, but didn't seem to know how to use them. They fired way off target, from open positions. We recovered the Jumper without causalities."

Carson tapped a pencil against the table top pointedly.

Lorne glanced at the doctor, and then finished in a rush. "On the homeward journey I piloted the recovered Jumper. They hadn't managed to get past the gene activated systems, so it was just a matter of scraping off some of their debris and…"

The tempo of the taps increased.

The Major looked at Beckett quickly before finishing in a rush "…and I tripped on one of their scanners, and broke my ankle."

Beckett muttered something about "fool military types who go on missions even when they're supposed to be on light duties," as he harassed Lorne, hopping along on crutches, out of the infirmary.

Sheppard couldn't help but smile. Weariness settled back in, and he was lulled to sleep by the gentle beeps of Rodney's monitors.

- 

The next time Sheppard woke, the infirmary was dark. Nurse Sorenson was injecting something into the IV again. She was one of the old school who took no nonsense from anyone. Rodney was terrified of her.

"Good evening, Colonel," she said formally. She finished the injection and moved to the next bed.

Rodney lay there, but he was not as still as before. He shifted restlessly in his sleep and pushed the oxygen mask off his face. Sorenson emptied another syringe into the little port on the IV, and then tsked under her breath as she replaced the oxygen mask. Sheppard wondered if he might have imagined the gentle pat she gave the scientist's shoulder, before she bustled off towards the nurses' station.

McKay mumbled something, and shifted. A hand rose up to his face and pushed the oxygen mask away again.

"Hey, Rodney," Sheppard hissed. "McKay, stop it, or you'll have the Wicked Witch of the West on your case." He glanced to the corner that the nurse had disappeared around.

Instead of settling, Rodney became more agitated. He knocked the oxygen mask off his face, and the plastic tubing looked in danger of tangling and pulling straight out. John remembered his nightmares, and guessed that Rodney was reliving his own horrors.

Sheppard checked for Nurse Sorenson again, but she was nowhere to be seen. He sat up slowly, but still had to pause for a moment to recover from the head rush.

Rodney flailed an arm, and tried to free himself from the metal sides of the bed. One of the IVs came loose, and began oozing blood.

One foot at a time, John swung his legs off the bed and onto the floor. They managed to hold his weight, which was a pleasant surprise, and he only stumbled once between the beds. He sank thankfully into a hard plastic chair.

"Hey, Rodney," he whispered. He balled up a piece of cotton wool from the bedside table and stuck it to the bleeding site. Then he gently replaced the oxygen mask. "Leave that there, or the Witch will have your hide." He directed Rodney's hand back to the bed.

The mumbling settled, and McKay's sleeping calmed again. The infirmary was silent. John settled back into the chair, his hand resting on Rodney's shoulder. For a moment, before he fell asleep, he wondered who he was trying to reassure.

Carson's voice woke him from a light doze.

"Good morning, Colonel Sheppard," he said.

John blinked awake. He felt better; he took a deep breath and was rewarded by only a gentle twinge of protesting ribs.

"Carson," he said.

"Is there something wrong with my beds that you choose to sleep on the visitor's chair?"

John smiled guiltily. "Nope." He did not move his hand from McKay's shoulder, or make any move toward his own bed.

Carson didn't comment, but continued to potter around the sunlit infirmary.

John looked at the sleeping form. Rodney looked awful, there was no getting away from that, but he slept peacefully. There were still dark rings under his eyes, and his face was too pale. But someone had replaced the disturbed IV, and cleaned up the blood while John slept. He suspected it was the same person who had tucked a blanket around his legs. He wondered if Nurse Sorenson was showing a gentle side at last.

"Would you like breakfast?" Beckett asked. "I'm sure I could rummage together something."

John thought for a moment. He was hungry. He nodded, and Carson whistled as he left on the hunt for breakfast.

The noise must have disturbed Rodney as he opened his eyes slowly. He looked about in something like panic, and John said, "Rodney," to catch his attention.

The frightened eyes flickered to Sheppard's.

"Welcome to the infirmary," John said.

Rodney didn't answer. He looked about the room in silent panic.

"Welcome back. Carson will be here in a bit, so if you need anything, he won't be long. Don't let him give you anything but the good stuff. Because I think this whole experience means we're owed it." John knew he was babbling, but he just didn't feel comfortable if Rodney was being quiet. "Seems some of Zelenka's algorithms worked and they found an answer. And Carson says you're going to be alright now…"

"Sheppard, stop talking," Rodney said, and grinned sleepily.

John grinned back and settled into the chair.

Yes, they were alright now.


	17. Epilogue

Aw, heck, here's the end. I couldn't leave it like that. Now I can say it really is finished.

* * *

A few days later...

"So, how are your friends, Carson?" Sheppard asked as the doctor entered the infirmary office. John had taken to hiding in here and doing paperwork so that Rodney wouldn't see and chaff too loudly at 'bed-rest means bed-rest, McKay.' So far it had worked, which meant the scientist wasn't fit enough to even consider getting on his feet.

Beckett looked more rested than he had for days. There was a spring in his step, and he seemed very pleased with himself. He poured himself a mug of steaming black coffee from the carafe in the corner before settling into the room's second chair.

Sheppard helped himself to a mug as well and doused it liberally in milk and sugar. Carson wrinkled his nose, but did not comment. Instead he answered the question. "The villagers are well, considering how bad things were. The cure rate with the new anti-viral is close to one hundred percent, and I've got a couple of medical teams flying out to treat the other villages. Actually, Colonel, there's a young lad, Levin, who would like to learn to fly the Jumper the next time you're taking classes."

"I'll remember that. And no sign of the Traders?"

Carson shrugged. "Nothing."

"I was thinking about that," John reflected. "They said they only had one ship left, so if that was the one I shot down…"

Carson nodded thoughtfully. "There's a sense of divine justice in that."

"I quite liked it too." Sheppard settled back in his chair, and swung his feet onto the desk. He gazed at the wall. "I still can't remember much about that tunnel, Carson."

The doctor didn't reply, or comment on the feet on his desk.

Softly, John continued. "I remember thinking that I couldn't let them get away with what they had done, and I was going to teach them that they shouldn't mess with my team. I was going to blow them up with a nuclear strike, and it was that same anger that kept the Jumper in the air on the way home."

"And now?"

"Now I haven't got the energy to care," he shrugged. "They're stuck on that island, with holds full of merchandise they can't sell, and Jumpers they can't fix. They're going to have to learn how to grow things again, if they're going to survive. And from what 'Frank' said, that might be the cruelest punishment they could be given."

"'Frank?'" Carson asked.

John was about to explain the involuntary naming of Traders, when the sound of raised voices drifted in from the infirmary proper. Both men carried their coffees to investigate.

-

"I just can't believe you did it," Rodney said crossly from his bed as he waved a spoonful of blue Jell-o around.

"You cannot believe I managed to program simple algorithm into search protocols on my own?" Radek Zelenka snapped back, but there was very little sting in his words. He was perched on one of the unoccupied beds in the infirmary.

John grinned at Carson. They had not been noticed by either scientist.

"That's not what I meant," McKay continued. "Well, admittedly, it was a pretty surprising piece of programming in such a short space of time."

"There was time constraint."

"But you did it without me!" Rodney replied. By some miracle of Jell-o's adhesive properties, it had remained on the spoon as it was waved around in expansive gestures. He swallowed it.

"You were indisposed at time."

"Yes, yes, dying and all," Rodney said dismissively.

Carson looked across at John, who shrugged. Only McKay would be so flippant. In effect, he'd missed all the excitement, but his cheeks were sunken and his face was still too pale. The hand that held the spoon still had an IV in the back.

Added to this was the fact that he was eating blue Jell-o like it was a real meal, and afterwards Rodney McKay, chronic insomniac, would fall into an exhausted sleep. Again. These were clear reminders for the other men of how close they had been to having to fill the position of head scientist.

Rodney continued quizzing Zelenka regardless of the way the atmosphere in the room had cooled. "What else did you find?"

The Czech removed his glasses and wiped them on the tail of his lab coat. "I am now expert in genetic manipulation of human genome into viruses."

"We've just opened up the entire Ancient database to a sensible search and the only thing you looked up was medical research!" Rodney said incredulously.

"I was researching particular problem."

_Yeah, like saving your ass, Rodney, _Sheppard added mentally.

"But that was the only thing you looked at!" Rodney said again.

"I have been busy keeping city running and fixing dozen problems with systems, and you want me to do research for McKay pet projects?" Zelenka replied, with frustration evident in his tone. He mumbled something that sounded like Czech curses.

Rodney banged his spoon down in disgust. "You came to gloat that the search algorithms I suggested…"

"…and I wrote…"

"…worked like a charm and you only used them to…"

John couldn't help interrupting. "To save your life, Rodney."

Rodney noticed Sheppard and Beckett for the first time. He frowned. "I know. It's just that I'm stuck in here, and the prison guard," he glared at Carson, "has forbidden anything of any interest, even all those trinkets you had in your pockets, Colonel. And I'm going stir crazy in here, and I just wondered if you," now Zelenka was the focus of the glare, "had come to say you'd found something interesting."

"If you call saving your life and Sheppard's and whole continent interesting…" Radek said idly, still concentrating on cleaning his spectacles.

Rodney sighed, and pushed the little tray away. "I'm going to get some sleep." He turned away and closed his eyes.

"Of course," Zelenka said as he replaced his glasses, "if you don't want to know about wave power turbines on North Pier…"

Rodney's eyes flew back open again.

Radek grinned and started to explain.

Sheppard and Carson each settled themselves to listen. Rodney absently lifted a spoonful of blue Jell-o and ate.

The End 


End file.
